


Iron Fist Season 2: Balancing the Universe

by ResiGamerGirl



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M, Gen, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 36
Words: 157,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13642767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResiGamerGirl/pseuds/ResiGamerGirl
Summary: Beyond the sight of New York's labeled "Defenders", dark forces work to create a new universe. If they should succeed, the world as we know it will be erased.What's worth the fight? Where is the hope of morning? Ordinary and extraordinary must come together to protect life they hold dear.+Full index of characters included. *Mind the rating. Dark themes, rape, violence, etc.





	1. Index

**CATEGORY: Iron Fist_The Defenders_Marvel Cinematic Universe**

**SUBCATEGORY :** **A** lternate **U** niverse-Post Defenders 2017

**TIME PERIOD:** Mid-2017 (1.5 years since S1 IF, which happened early 2016)

**CHARACTERS (Appearances and Mentions*):**

**Iron Fist:**

Ward Meachum

Harold Meachum

Joy Meachum

Danny Rand

Colleen Wing

Jeri Hogarth

Megan

Bakuto (Kuo Abt)

 

**The Defenders:**

Luke Cage

Jessica Jones

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

 

**MCU TV Others** :

Claire Temple

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

Karen Page

Malcolm Ducasse

Misty Knight

David Lieberman (Micro)

Davos

Foggy Nelson

 

**Original Characters [Imagined actors for the roles]:**

Marcus Patterson [Domhnall Gleeson]

Trevor Milstone [Brian Van Holt]

Mikka Marks (M) [Paula Patton]

Nina Monroe [Sarah Clarke]

Alex Ray [Alec Rayme]

Owen Alvaro [Oscar Isaac]

Dr. Thomas Oberman [Max Riemelt]

Dominic Calburn [Vincent Regan]

Luther James [Cary Elwes]

Taylor Manden [Esai Morales]

Nick Gomez [Kevin Alejandro]

 

**Organizations of Interest (Preexisting and Original):**

Rand Enterprises

Obaktu Enterprises (Heart)

Wachhund/Watch Dog/Cerberus

Black Order (Children of Thanos)


	2. Chapter 1: Effective Method

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like and don't like season one of Iron Fist. The character of Ward Meachum intrigued and entertained enough that I became invested in him and his future. Danny Rand I could mostly give or take. There was at least some improvement in his character during The Defenders. 
> 
> Here is my attempt to remedy the series by creating an AU Iron Fist Season 2. This is a written format version. If it were to be visual, there would be far more awesome martial art battles. Regardless, I hope you read and enjoy.

_**“I find partnership to be a much more effective method.”** _   
_**-Bakuto** _

TUESDAY, PREDAWN

“Wake up. Ward, wake up for me. Come on, son. Wake up.”

Ward jolted awake from the nightmare of his father's voice calling to him. Blinking tiredly, he realized the light in his room was on. Off to his left, sitting on the side of his bed, was his dead dad. He rubbed his eyes, certain it was a remnant of his nightmare. But the man's form was solid, and presently, he was smiling warmly at him.

Freaking out, he scrambled to the other side of the bed, back smacking against the headboard. He stared at the dead man, utterly horrified and lost. Did he lose his mind? Was this somehow a particularly vivid dream?

“Calm down, Ward. It's just me.”

Just.. Holy crap he finally cracked! But he'd been feeling great, bordering on happy. Never quite there, being alone and running an enormous company virtually on his own, but getting better. Why was he snapping now? He missed Joy, he did so much. But he'd laid off the pills. It had been surprisingly easy the moment his dad was out of his life permanently, and killed justly at that.

“He's real, if you're doubting yourself,” another voice said, filling the quiet tension.

His eyes lifted to the doorway where a man he recognized was standing. The name was escaping him as he wasn't certain he'd ever been given it. What he did remember was that he was a leader in the Hand, the creepy shadow organization Harold forced him to merge into Rand Enterprises. He also recalled the man was supposed to be dead too. Danny's girlfriend cut off his head herself before his body was lost in the rubble of a decimated building, accompanied by the rest of the “fingers” of the Hand.

His own fingers crept along the covers to his beside table. He kept a gun in the drawer. The movement did not go unnoticed by the keen gaze of the one by his exit.

“I took the liberty of removing your gun. I don't want anyone to die today.”

Despite his claim, Ward checked the drawer to find his weapon was indeed gone from its place. There was no sign of his cell phone anywhere either. Sighing exasperatedly, he sat back again, keeping distance between him and the monster dad still.

He turned his eyes to his father to tell him matter-of-factly, “I watched you burn to ash.”

“Uh uh,” the man by the door sounded. “I had someone on the inside at the morgue switch him with a prepared body double.”

Prepared...?

“Why would you _do_ that?” he questioned with a mixture of confusion and disbelief that they would bother.

“Harold Meachum has proven his usefulness, even if the relationship with the Hand began to deteriorate after a decade of service. As well, I am extremely favorable for having back-ups in place.”

“More than a decade,” his dead father clarified stiffly.

Ward drew his knees up to his chest, terribly uncomfortable to be in the same room with these two men. He glanced cautiously between them before focusing on the man who could provide clear answers. Of course, the man was miles from trustworthy, but not looking at the face of his father sounded fantastic right now.

“Is that how you're alive? What kind of back-up could revive someone from decapitation? You told me that was the way to ensure immortals didn't come back.”

“Very right, my friend. But you see, I lived in K'un-Lun with my brother. He didn't depart with me, far too loyal to our masters, except he missed me. He chose to leave one day to find me and I convinced him of our cause. Immortality, shaping the world to be better than what it was becoming. As a leader in the effort, he devoted to the protection of that leader. Willingly he volunteered to die and be resurrected. Brought back, we induced a coma. He was to be my vessel should anything ever happen to my own body, that I could not return to it, his would take its place.”

“A twin,” he assumed by the face staring at him, feeling incredulous at the revelation. “How in the hell do you get yourself in someone else's body?”

“I spent many of my days searching and investigating the mystical sides of the world. While Madame Gao and Alexandra made big plans and schemes, I remained on the fringes, looking for answers to life's secrets. There was a curious place and to wrap up a long tale quite simply, very old magic allowed for the transference of my consciousness into the empty shell of my brother.”

Well that didn't make any sense to him, but there were a lot of ridiculously insane happenings in the world today. New York seemed to get hit by most of them too. Some random magic bringing a person back to life via twin? Sure, why not? A body double for fucking Harold? Why?

Speaking of Harold...

“I missed you, son,” he professed. “It was so difficult to be away from you for this long. I forgive you for all those things you did; helping Danny, shooting me.. You were trying to be your own man, and I can see that now.”

He blinked blankly at his dad. “I tried to kill you three times. I did kill you two of those times. Why would you forgive me?”

“Because you're my son.” His father reached out to try and touch his hand but he pressed farther away to avoid contact. “And I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that bullshit talk?”

“I remember telling you that you were my biggest disappointment but I know I was wrong now. You've been running the company for more than a year and it's flourishing. Well done, son.”

His entire life had been spent trying to get his dad to say words like that. Instead he was constantly put down, constantly refused to have his own ideas, constantly forced on a linear path in life, and that was before his dad died and came back even more distant and controlling.

A laugh burst out of him. “There you go again. This is what you do. You express nice sentiments and say measured things that sound good, but really it's empty of meaning.”

“I love you. I need you, Ward. I only want the best for you.”

“Shut up! Your eyes are cold. You're not my dad. My dad was a bastard, but you're even worse. A complete monster who hits his kid like it's any other order of business.”

For the first time, he noticed a blinking red light coming from the corner of the room near his flat screen. Frowning at it, he looked over to the Hand leader in the doorway.

“Is that a camera?”

“Your father and I have made a new arrangement, Ward Meachum,” the man told him, ignoring his inquiry. “This quid pro quo relationship won't work without your help, however, so I'll be requiring your cooperation.”

“I cut the Hand out of Rand. We don't do business with any of those accounts or properties anymore. I couldn't help you if I wanted.”

His father suddenly snapped a hand forward, trying to grab his arm. He ended up with a wrist when Ward shifted away from the reach. The grip was tight and painful, causing him to wince.

“I've always been willing to do what needs to be done for success, to come out on top. My love for you gave you everything you have. I raised you to be like me and what did I get? Someone so weak they can't see grand opportunity when it's right in front of them.”

“Ow.. You're gonna break my wrist, Dad,” he complained, gritting his teeth and wondering if he would have to wait for the inevitable snap.

The man moved away from the doorway to approach the bed. “Harold, no visible injuries. We talked about this.”

His dad breathed in and out, then released his grip as the other retreated to the door. “Sorry, son. My temper sometimes...”

Maybe he was wrong about his dad being different when he came back from the dead. Maybe his dad merely decided he could be who he truly was when he beat death. Either way, there was no debate whatever was going on with his dad's perpetuating existence, he was unstable and dangerous.

Warily, his attention roved over to the camera set against the far wall so it took in this entire side of the room and probably the door area too. Why use it? He didn't think he should wait to learn the why. The unknown never turned out positively for him.

“I have disengaged from the Hand,” the man informed him. “I go my own path with my followers. I started on that even before the organization was destroyed by these.. defenders of New York City. I went by the name Bakuto, but now I have given myself a different name for a different path. It is Kuo Abt. Please, call me Kuo. I would like for us to build a new relationship. A more positive and equally beneficial one.”

Ward scoffed. “As long as Harold is anywhere near me, I'm not doing shit for you.”

The man's expression darkened. “I suspect you would refuse to cooperate whether I got rid of him or not. Despite what your father thinks, I can see you are resilient from tribulations endured.”

He made a gesture as if he was going to consider the words, and then rolled off the bed, going for the window. Both men stared at him, neither reacting, uncertain of his intention. Ward used the opportunity to open the hidden compartment in his windowsill, pulling the handgun from it. He clicked the safety off and broadly aimed it toward the two intruders.

“Get out of my house. I want you to leave.”

Bakuto, no, Kuo, regarded him differently, a quiet examination of his face under way. Meanwhile, Harold was being Harold, telling him to put the gun down so they can talk peacefully.

“Come on, son. You don't have to worry about a thing. I'll tell you exactly what to do.”

The repetition of a mantra his father used with him over and over to convince him things were okay, burned his ears. Hatred rushed through him. His grip remained steady on his firearm.

“Like always,” he muttered, recalling what he always said to that exact assurance.

Looking pleased, his dad nodded. “Yes, that's right. Like always.”

His expression soured. “I won't be your slave again. I want my own life where I have real choices. I want to be away from you forever. You did everything you could to push me down and make me like you, make me live your life. You're a control freak and all you care about is yourself.”

“Why do you say such things?”

That was a familiar switch. Often his father would maintain his casual demeanor seconds before hitting him, but if he was paying attention like in this moment, his eyes focused straight ahead right as he made the decision to cause pain.

“Get out of here! Both of you leave!”

The man in his doorway shrugged and put his hands up to show himself a non-threat. “Okay. Relax, kid.”

His dad wasn't finished with his nonsense yet. The man was obsessed with hearing himself talk.

“I love you, Ward.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“I want us to be a family.”

“You don't even know what love is, do you? I think you never did.” He poked the weapon toward Harold, pointing it in his face. “Leave now.”

“Come on, Harold.” Kuo said, calmly. “The man wants us to leave.”

Harold appeared anything but happy, reluctantly stepping away from him and backing up to the doorway. The look on his face was awfully familiar. Utter disappointment, like Ward had let him down. Twisted bastard.

Carefully, he followed them across the room, watching as they backed into the living area with a tight glare. He paused, listening, but didn't hear anyone else in the place. It was possible they could have come alone.

Scratch that. He spotted a ninja loitering in the middle of the next room. Upping his alertness, he used caution emerging from his bedroom, and the gun was knocked from his hands. No.. How..?

There was a second ninja lurking in the dark against the wall outside his bedroom. Silently, he stared at Ward. When he scrambled to reclaim the gun, it was kicked away from him by the same ninja. Cursing, he did the thing he could think to do next. He ran for the front door.

Arms encircled his waist, released when an elbow rammed back and caught his assailant in the stomach, then returned. This time they wrapped firmly about his arms and upper chest, trapping them to his sides. He squirmed desperately and yelled for someone to help, for someone to call the police.

Facial hair brushed against his own clean-shaven cheek. “Nobody can hear you from here. And if anyone did, they wouldn't dare call the police. No one likes to involve themselves in risky business. They all tell themselves someone else will take care of it; it's none of their concern. Don't you see it? This world is sick. So many are infected with impassivity.”

He was being dragged, half-carried because of his wild flailing. These people were bad, bad people. He had to get away but he never seemed able to free himself from them. This was happening again. He couldn't believe this entrapment was happening again. He'd never loathed being a Meachum and having ownership on an enormous fortune more in his life than right now.

For the briefest of moments, his eyes locked with the eyes of the ninja standing at the center of his living room. They were wide, possibly surprise or concern there. He didn't have much longer than that stretched moment before he found himself returned to his bedroom.

Ward fell heavily to the floor by the foot of his bed when Kuo let him go.

“This world has a sickness and I work to free everyone from the hold of overwhelming indifference surrounding us. The Hand sought control on life and this world, but I seek to heal it. We are called Heart, and our mission is a noble one.”

He snorted. “The Heart? That's what you're going with?”

The thought occurred he should figure out where Harold was but as he started to rise, Kuo kicked him behind the knee. He faltered to his knees and did not like that one bit as he looked up at his enemy.

“Join forces with me, Ward, and we can change the world.”

“Do you people ever get tired of giving the same speeches?”

The other man genuinely appeared sympathetic as he crouched in front of him. “Do you ever get tired of being powerless to such people?”

“I'm not powerless. I told you no.” Ward insisted, irritated he was technically correct and at the mercy of this guy. “Rand Enterprises will no longer be tainted by criminal organizations.”

Kuo smiled softly. “I admire your resolve, truly. I'm afraid it won't help. You'll abide, eventually. Everyone breaks. There are no exceptions.”

A hand dropped onto his shoulder, Harold kneeling behind him, and he recoiled at the dark look in those eyes. Lust which somehow one day his own father came to believe was his display of love.

“Take off your shirt, Ward. I want to see you.”

He gagged, almost throwing up right then and there. His father was actually dead finally. He'd been gone from his life. This couldn't be happening to him!

“No, I won't.”

“Ward, do as you're told.”

Oh God... He tried to get to his feet and Kuo hit him square in the solar plexus with a flat hand. He would have dropped but his dad's arms caught him. Ward felt his body spasm in extreme pain and not much else as he struggled to get himself together.

Warm hands slid beneath his t-shirt and a blur of white filled his vision as the fabric was pulled over his head. Shirtless, Harold turned him in his grasp, examining his backside with gentle fingers. Breathing heavy from the assault, he focused on gaining his strength and breath.

“Ah yes,” he murmured, stroking along his skin. “I imagine some of these scars will not fade much more, will be here to remind you of your duty as my heir.”

“You mean my role as a puppet,” he snapped furiously.

Here came the terrifying talk. The last time he got this kind of talking, was before he snapped and murdered his father in a fit of insanity and rage.

“Leave me alone,” he replied hopelessly, the last remnant of hope that words would be effective in any way dissipating even as he said them. “Go away!”

Desperation had leaked into the anger of that last part. He tried to calm himself as he was half held off the ground, half lying in his father's lap.

“I invested my life into you, boy. You are my legacy. I created you.”

“Don't touch me!” he shouted, knowing all too well what his father was intending.

“You belong to me,” came the predictable claim.

Feeling strong enough, he lashed out, twisting from his grip to the carpet below. He managed to swing his lower half about, landing the bottom of his bare foot into Kuo's crouching form, knocking him backward for it being unexpected. He drove his elbow into his partially standing father, aiming for the crotch but hitting the inner thigh instead. Still, it was forceful and damaging enough to put him on his ass.

He stood up and jerked to face the door in time to see Kuo close it. Quick at recovery that one.

Leaning against the shut way, he shook his head solemnly. Maddeningly, it had the appearance of sympathy and disgust for his plight.

“I don't approve of such abuse of authority and responsibility, but I am willing to facilitate to achieve my own ends. What I desire is supposed to happen; it's good. This is the consequence of your refusal to accept the inevitable role you must become.”

“Ward.”

He twisted around to find his father in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. His gaze fell on the scars that lay beneath. The intention of the action in the first place, he pointed at the circular wounds on his front with two fingers.

“This is where you shot me several times and killed me. These marks here, where you stabbed me repeatedly, killing me. I was so shocked when you did that. Didn't think you had it in you to murder your own father. Didn't think you had the will to get anything visceral done really.”

“I killed a monster who was killing me slowly, draining the life out of me at every turn.”

“That's a bit dramatic. Is that what you think?”

There seemed to be genuine confusion and situational uncertainty in his face then, head tilting from one side to the other. Then he snapped back into focus and his eyes were bottomless, staring ahead of himself. There would be no avoiding this, so he told him the truth.

“You know it is.”

He was grabbed by the shoulders. “I love you.”

His dad squeezed a hand on his throat and forcefully pushed against him, arm wrapping around his back, pressing lips onto his. He twisted his head away and the hand went from his throat to his groin, crushing painfully. A gasp escaped him and Harold used the opening to assault his mouth with better access.

Ward managed to temporarily overpower his attacker, shoving him away. “I hate you! Why can't you stay dead?”

A kidney punch landed and he felt paralyzed by the radiating agony. He could think of little else.

After his first death, his father practiced boxing and other forms of combat which made him capable of knowing where to hit to make him pliable. Ward was in good physical condition but it was never enough to prevent Harold from getting whatever he wanted. Especially since he tended to hesitate at the worst of times because of familial sentiment, even when he knew for fact that his dad was an imminent danger to anyone near him.

Harold was man-handling him to the bed, working his hand beneath the waistband of silk pajama bottoms. He felt them pooling to his feet. Forced onto the bed, there was hardly time to try sitting up before heavy weight settled on top of him. Frantic fear ached in his chest.

Far too close to the very worst thing his father sometimes did to him in his power play and twisted fantasies of family and love, panic arose. He tried to punch his dad but the arm was caught and held flat on the bed's surface.

“Don't do this. Get off!” he pleaded.

Six years he had to deal with the possibility of this happening, the reality of it happening. Constantly having to deal with his father's ever-changing moods, continuous speeches, and increasing secrets piled on top. Harold would never stop trying to hold him down and make him do whatever it was he wanted at the time, figuratively and literally. It enraged him.


	3. Chapter 2: Much Longer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final reminder to mind the warnings from the description.

_**“The world we live in now is run by corporations, not governments. Oligarchies of the rich and powerful. But that's not gonna last much longer.”** _  
_**-Bakuto** _

TUESDAY, PREDAWN

“Just die! I hate you! Sick fuck! Get off me!”

A thin smile and blank eyes met his spew of hatred and fear. Collected, he hit him in the stomach several times to halt his screaming words and swinging arm. A whine wheezed out of his throat, only vaguely aware Harold was working on ridding himself of the rest of his own clothing. This couldn't be...

Hands moved across his legs, trying to pull them apart and he did his best to lock the limbs together. He twisted and fought to push him away with little result. His dad was strong. Definitely more brutally efficient and cruel. His struggle became so violent that Harold kneed him in the crotch, fed up.

“Dad, please..” he begged low, desperate. “Don't do this. Please, stop. Stop.”

Humming in triumph as he forced himself between Ward's legs, he draped across his body and leaned into his face. “I'm doing this because I love you, Ward.”

A practiced finger dug its way inside him, causing instant burning pain. His pleas grew more urgent as total fear threatened to envelope any concept of rational thought remaining. But already his mind was working to separate from his body, struggling to protect his sanity, an automatic response adopted from the multitude of times he'd faced this exact assault in the past.

He felt his unpinned arm thrown against the mattress and a harsh slap across his cheek. A heel realization that he was managing a decent fight if his dad was resorting to roughing him up to regain control. His mind just wasn't fully focused on the effort anymore, trying as it was to rise above the gritty actuality of the circumstance.

“Dad,” he whimpered. “Dad, don't. Stop this. Please, Dad.”

“For your own good,” his father murmured into his lips as he forced another kiss, releasing his grip on the arm held flat to the bed.

The mouth drew away as he pushed in with zero preparation beyond the single finger digging around and nothing to ease the passage inward. A scream of unrelenting agony ripped free. It felt like a knife was stabbing him. He clawed blindly and desperately to get him out, get him off. Anything for it to stop hurting.

Harold continued pushing the considerable size of his penis into him and he could hear himself weeping and screaming, unable to think beyond those things. His dad muttered something indistinguishable under his breath and shoved his legs farther apart, settling more of his weight on top of him. The escaping mind failed as the pain held him in the present, conscious of everything happening.

The thrusts began and a shot of white hot agony soared through his head. His arms fell limply to lay by his sides.

He blinked awake bleary eyed and confused, his dad clutching him by the chin and telling him how precious he was. Harold told him he had a beautiful body in the same beat he informed that he deserved this for his failure as a son. The derogatory speech being nothing new, his train of thought wandered to thinking maybe he'd passed out however momentarily it might have been.

Ward tilted his head away to stare numbly at the flat screen television, feeling sick to have his rapist this close. It hurt too much to try and phase it out, pretend he was elsewhere. The technique rarely worked anyway, no matter how his mind struggled to make it happen to protect his mental health. Often, Harold made certain he was engaged throughout the act.

Tonight he must have got enough from him when the rape first began, because he didn't care that he was using the TV as a focal point to try and make as few noises or reactions as possible. Harold was grunting and talking and releasing pleasurable sounds, but he would not give him further signs of how affected the assault made him.

Silent tears trailed down his face and his expression went slack, eyes deadening. Waiting. Waiting. A palm stroked along his cheek, combing through his hair tenderly. The unwanted weight felt so heavy on top of him, crushing, offending. Pain continued to radiate from the ongoing intrusion, each thrust a sharp and uncomfortable sensation. Waiting.

When his father finally climaxed inside of him, there was no relief. He used to feel some kind of relief, but only ever when he was gone from that building Harold was caged. Only when he'd been able to clean the stench of it off of him and gotten on with what constituted his life, hoping that could be the last time it happened to him. Oh, how he'd fooled himself time and again that his dad could be his dad, and things wouldn't be like this forever.

His dad speaking above him grew quiet, and it was only when there was silence that he realized maybe a response was expected. A punch to his face knocked the real world back into him with a roar. It also knocked a grunt past his lips, warm blood leaking out the corner of his mouth, darkening light sheets.

Disoriented, the angry words exchanged between Harold and the other man was background. He felt the weight lift off his chest and the rest of him as his dad sat up. Bleary eyes watched his withdrawal from the bed, grumpy.

Ward kept where he was, not moving an inch. What was he supposed to do? When he heard someone approaching, then he determined to move.

He curled onto his side and felt something soft settle onto his legs. A glance informed him it was a bath towel. He looked up to the one who'd given it to him.

“It's okay.” Kuo said. “We must learn from our mistakes.”

Laughable, though he did not feel like laughing. He reached for the towel and sat upright, letting it pool over his lap so he could feel like he had some kind of decency again. That he could even sit in the aftermath was both surprising and a good sign. It was sad he knew to check that first. Because sitting was pretty important when done all day in the office, at board meetings... Maybe Harold had angled them just right...

He twitched physically as mentally he shifted away from flashes of the fresh attack. The walk was the next vital thing to be sure wasn't outwardly altered. Goddamn, what Harold had made a normality for him.. Sick beyond measure.

“If I would have known the twisted manner in which your father views you, I'd never have recommended family therapy.” Kuo shared with him of advice given years ago. “We both know he's beyond redemption.”

Ward searchingly took note his father was no longer in his bedroom. Now it was only him and the former Hand leader, who stood in front of him by the side of his bed. He'd rather be left alone.

“Many sons and daughters face emotional or psychological abuse from a parent their entire lives like yourself, and for you the pressure was severe. How did it feel when he hit you for the first time?”

Pain. Shocking. Awful. Uncertain. Confusing. Hurt pride, feelings. Although he remembered, he opted not to share any of it with this stranger. He gave a brief look instead, before turning his gaze to the towel covering his lap and keeping it fixed there. So the man answered for him.

“You were 24 years old. You don't get hit by your father. You don't have to fear your own father hitting you. You're not one of those kids who gets messed up from horrible parenting. Dad was always strict, controlling, and void of affectionately loving the boy meant to be his successor, his legacy. But he never hit. And there you were, 24 years old with a stinging cheek, wondering if it really happened, thinking it would never happen again.”

He frowned. It annoyed him to have this man tell him how he felt, to hit the nail on the head all the thoughts that passed through his mind in the moments after. He might pretend to understand him, but what could he actually know about it?

“Unfortunately, after the first time you do something it always gets easier...” Kuo went on, pausing before supplying, “If you like how it feels that is.”

Ward peered up at him, wondering where he was going with the lecture.

“Harold didn't stop after that, did he? No... You had to brace yourself for the possibility of it happening from that day on. Repeatedly you would be lured into a false sense of safety and family, and then you'd be hit again. Sometimes just enough to silence you for a few moments, sometimes enough to bring you to the floor.”

His inquisitive eyes shifted to a glare. How could he know any of this? What made him think he needed to hear what he already knew?

“If you were especially unlucky, enough to require a doctor and treatment.” Kuo went on, unperturbed by the unfriendly focus on him. “Since he didn't know how to be a father in the first place, only knowing he was supposed to love his family, later the same year he assaulted you sexually.”

His glare weakened, unwilling to keep listening to such deeply personal life details be regaled, uncertain what he could do to make him stop talking.

“Held you down and forced you to lose your virginity to him at 25 years old. That was important, you see, because you'd fallen in love with a young woman outside his reach and he couldn't have you distracted. So he told you he would be your sexual release and no one else. He made you.”

“Shut up,” he muttered noncommittally.

Disregarding, Kuo kept on. “He watched you with his cameras, with his hired thugs who could move around for him outside his self-imposed cage. And you never could get over being fucked by daddy as a grown man.”

“Shut the hell up!” he managed to demand in a loud voice, staring the other straight in the eye, seething.

He received a smile for his trouble, but there was no malice or pleasure behind it. That was probably the reason he continued to sit and listen as Kuo refused to let up on his assessment of the relationship between him and his father.

“You retreated into yourself, took more and more of the pain pills meant to assuage the physical marks adorned by him. Lost the true connection with your sister held dear to you both. Because besides having to keep the secret of your father alive, now you had this to bear, and she could never know. Did it hurt you more, that she didn't ever do anything to help or talk about your pain until after Danny Rand returned from the dead?”

“Don't talk about Joy,” he tried. “You don't do that.”

Unsurprisingly, his desires had little bearing on what Kuo was going to say or do.

“She knew something was wrong. You know it's true. She knew you were deeply unhappy, and she avoided saying anything. Your work lives were well enough and allowed the pair of you to spend a lot of time in each others' company, so she was happy. Does it hurt that she left you? Does it hurt that everybody always leaves you in the end?”

“Don't pretend like you understand anything about real family.” Ward snarked.

Not bothered in the least, irritatingly he kept talking. “The only one who has ever ensured you would stay with them forever is Harold. Dear dad was quick to make it a co-dependent relationship after he came back from death. Explained to you he'd have to tell Joy if you ever failed to come when he called. And if he told Joy, she would be killed by the Hand for knowing he was alive. What a cruel thing to tell someone you supposedly love.”

Fed up, he asked, “How can you possibly know all this?”

“I know this because the Hand watched from the shadows. When I made my plans to take control from Gao, I researched and dug extensively. Your father has a hobby of filming things, I'm certain you noticed. Did you know he had cameras inside his place?”

He didn't wait for an answer, proceeding to expose a secret he couldn't have imagined.

“Trapped in those rooms, he made a hobby of putting movies together of the things he did to you there. He'd stream a whole series of times he hit you or beat you with his belt, and got off on it. Recorded the first time he made you have sex with him, first time you had to give him oral sex, first time he forced you to have sex like you wanted it, like you loved him back-”

“Stop!” he shouted, desperate not to hear any more of this.

As usual, the man did not. “He especially liked the one where you got ideas of leaving again and he broke your arm. Always your fault too. Because how could you leave him? You were all he had. What about Joy? Didn't you love Joy? And then he forced you to make it up to him for considering such a thing.”

“Please, stop...” he weakly requested, head lowering to stare at the towel in his lap again.

This guy knew so much, maybe even everything about them. It was horrifying and disturbing and unwelcome. The manner in which his own father treated him was bad enough in private, but to have another know, to describe his shitshow of a life out loud...

“Did you think what happened to your girlfriend was an accident?”

His head shot up, questioning in his face. “Girlfriend...?”

“You know the one. The waitress who you met while in business school at twenty-one. The first girl you ever loved. There was only one other you loved, Melissa, but you had to break up after your dad made certain you could never be intimate with her without thinking of him. However, this one, this one had to be gotten rid of because she wasn't worthy of his son as a lowly waitress, and would distract from running the company.”

He'd met her at a diner near campus he frequented as a personal place of solitude from the world he was supposed to belong in and flourish. She let him feel like a person instead of a figurehead. Someone who could do whatever he wanted with his life and wouldn't be judged in bias.

“Jen died in a car accident.”

“Yes, she did.” Kuo agreed, then added, “An accident arranged by Harold.”

His face fell and the full glare returned. “You're lying.”

“Do you think there is anything your father would not do to keep you in his grasp?”

Choked sobs emerged from him as he understood it was true. That he never realized it or even suspected the possibility was a reminder of how deep under his skin Harold got. Jen was only nineteen... He shoved a hand over his mouth and lowered his head, trying to quiet the emotional outburst.

“He kept unwisely detailed journals of everything concerning you and your life, your progression as his legacy. That man is a deluded megalomaniac. I can make use of someone like that, because I need someone like you. Someone with money, resources, and power, yes. But also a thing rarer to be found included with the rest.. A good heart.”

Ward shimmied across the bed, trying to be subtle. He was sensing for all of his psychologically affecting words to him, there would inevitably be a physical threat to follow it up. He'd rather not have it happen if there was any way to avoid it. But of course he was noticed, the man having never taken his eyes from him since the discerning speech first started.

Kuo stepped forward and lashed out. He winced, receiving the blow in the same heartbeat. His side ached from the hit. Tired and in pain, he allowed himself to be dragged over the sheets, slipping to the carpet. As an afterthought, he felt for the towel and returned it across his lap. It was the one thing he could do to make this slightly less uncomfortable, and that in itself was bitterly tragic.

The man crouched before him. “I can give you those notebooks, the discs, if you ask me. You can destroy them and be sure they never see the light of day.”

“You would expect a return, I imagine,” he pointed out. “And I already told you no.”

His right hand reached forward and slid through his hair. He attempted to pull away and the gentle touch twisted, gripping painfully.

“Forcing your child into a sexual relationship used as punishment and a vehicle for false claims of love, malicious and depraved. I advise you do as I say. No telling how he'll treat you after everything you've done against him.” Kuo conveyed, tone gracious. “Because no matter what he says, we know better. He doesn't forgive you. He watches and waits and snaps, and you will always be the brunt of his internal, greed-fueled rage.”

Managing to find his inner humor, he replied, “Then why don't you do us both a favor and get rid of him? You're supposed to care about honor, right?”

“I pity you for having the misfortune of a psychopath father, who expects you to be exactly like him.” Kuo sympathized, but his demeanor spoke more. He had a use for them both and it was his priority.

“You are not at all like him. There's goodness in you that he will never be able to understand, because it's never been in him. He acts the part of a man, but he never was a whole one. I admire your endurance, your heart. Someone like you cares for other people, even when you might pretend otherwise. You would fit right in among the ranks of my new order.”

He swallowed hard. An immediate thought had come to him about how easy it would be to say yes. Just be a part of something that wasn't him on his own. He pushed the idea back down. These people were murderers. This guy shot Joy. He let her face fill his mind and focused on it while Kuo prattled on.

“Recall when Danny Rand first showed up at your workplace by all appearances a crazed loon. Even as evidence began to show that it was him, you refused to believe because it scared you. It meant someone else to lie to, someone else your father showed a dangerous amount of interest in, someone who did reckless actions and not much else. He nearly got you and your sister kicked out of your own company! He was someone-”

“Who freed me.” Ward blurted without knowing it was coming out. Since it already had, he kept going with the declaration, clarifying his meaning. “I was free from Harold after three decades because of Danny. I was the one who made the mistake of believing he was the threat to Joy and I, but of course it was that bastard.”

Dissatisfaction evident in his expression, Kuo released the grip on his hair, giving him a good shove as he did so that knocked his head back a little.

“Your father was very good at keeping you in the dark and on a leash. And he could see that no matter what he did, you convinced yourself he was a father who did love you somewhere inside. Had to love Joy at least. Give him time, just do as he said and get by. For your sister's sake at any rate. But she left.”

“I tried to get the hell out of town too, so there's no way I'm getting mad at Joy for being able to do it,” he defended straight away.

Kuo hummed as though considering the idea, then threw another name in for examination.

“And Danny left you too. He called you family, claimed when you were children he saw you as a brother. What are you even to him now? What kind of family leaves you? He only calls when he needs to use the company for something, isn't that right? Not much different than the Hand, is it?”

He didn't blame his sister, or Danny. They had their own lives to live and he couldn't be the pathetic guy who admitted he wished someone would spend time with him. It hit far too close to home that loneliness issue. Much of the reason why he would return to his father's place was not solely to keep Joy clueless and safe. He also went because his father didn't mind him being there. Harold wasn't an evil monster 24/7, and it wasn't so terrible to hang around for a while in his better moods.

Ward knew he was being messed with. The guy was trying to get into his head and somehow convince it wouldn't be bad working for him. He wasn't stupid. It would only ever end badly.

“Just shut up!” he insisted. “Why do you keep telling me my own life story? I know this shit.”

A hand fell onto his shoulder. Eyes staring into his. “Because, Ward, I want you to see that you are all alone.”

He let a long moment of silence hang between them in the air, and then attested, “Alone but for your father, and Harold can do as he pleases. Though I'll spare you the deprivation of privacy and assure you no cameras will watch you in your home.”

“How thoughtful,” he muttered angrily. “Are you finished with the verbal torment now?”

Kuo chose to respond like nothing was said to him. “After a time, if I am satisfied with your efforts to benefit Heart, we can talk about eliminating your father. Quid pro quo.”

Hadn't he heard these promises before? By the same man no less. He broke his promise then, and he would likely break his promise now, Hand or Heart or whatever be damned.

“I won't help you.” Ward snapped, swiping the hand from his shoulder. “I made that mistake once and you shot my sister.”

“She did a naughty thing stealing my money.”

He shook his head, firm in this decision, no matter what would happen to him. “I will never help anybody like you. Get out.”

Ward received a forced, tight smile as the man stood. “I will.”

Fingers brushed briefly on his cheek where it still throbbed from Harold punching him hard. “This is leaving a mark.”

Feeling a rush of courage that he probably shouldn't be feeling, he smiled up from his sitting position.

“You'll be sorry if you don't leave me alone.”

In the middle of turning to the doorway, Kuo paused. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Meachum?”

His head became a rush of colors and dizziness. He dragged himself upright to a seated position again, vaguely aware he'd been hit in the face with a spin kick. Honestly, it was a bit surprising he was conscious yet.

“I like you, Ward. I think you're smart and more capable than you believe. I see great things in your future. Hope I'm not wrong.”

Rubbing his aching jaw, he watched the other walk over to the part of his room near his television. He got a harsh reminder that there was a camera and this entire encounter had been put on record for some reason. Then he was distracted by Kuo's parting words to him as he left the room.

“I leave you with your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan is to update every Sunday. My apologies in advance if I ever miss a deadline.


	4. Chapter 3: Serve

_**“But in the end... and this is the end... you'll do what everyone else does for me. You'll serve.”** _   
_**-Alexandra Reid** _

_TUESDAY, EARLY MORNING_

“Want a drink?”

“Yeah, that's what you should ask me,” muttered Ward.

“Watch your mouth,” Harold reprimanded. “You sound testy.”

He sat uncomfortably on the couch, arms wrapped around himself, face tight and lips set in a firm line. It was nothing new that his father expected him to act normal after the physical abuse, but usually he didn't look for him to be like nothing ever happened so soon following the incident. Only a few hours had gone by since he was attacked in his room.

When Kuo left him alone, he'd retreated into the bathroom connected to his bedroom, showering his rapist off. Putting a t-shirt and pants on, he'd caught his reflection in the mirror. His eyes lingering on muscular arms, he lost control and punched the mirror, cracking it pretty good. He had muscle so why didn't it do him any good to protect himself from an assault? Shame made him go retrieve a black zip up to cover the arms and that was when his father came looking for him.

He'd been scolded for hiding in the bathroom for hours and then guided into the living room. It was where he sat now, complete silence between them for quite some time. While his father had every appearance of being relaxed and at ease, Ward was anything but. On edge, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

His face hurt, jaw aching and cheek throbbing from where he was hit. He'd been informed he would be calling in sick until the marks were no longer visible. Well that was fine by him. They couldn't try to force him to make changes in the company for their benefit if he didn't show at work. Of course, the downside of not going to the office meant he would be stuck in his house with Harold.

If he shifted a certain way, his ass hurt too. He'd been taken dry and unprepared. He would physically be feeling a reminder of the rape for days. Letting his head fall against his hand, he sighed tiredly. Tired from being woken in the middle of the night, from an exhaustive battle to prevent the assault. His eyes were fighting to close despite how little he wanted to be asleep this near to Harold.

“I'll get you a drink. You look like you need one,” his father remarked.

“I don't want a drink, Dad,” he said as he watched him continue to prepare drinks for them.

It never mattered what he said.

His dad brought over the drink and took a sip from his own, watching him. When he didn't take a drink and just gripped it in the hand resting on the arm of the chair, he noticed the cuts on his knuckles.

“What happened to your hand?”

He winced as horrible images dredged up into his mind. His dad destroying the teeth of two dead men on his living room floor. He'd been enjoying it, probably enjoyed making Ward get rid of the bodies for him too. The question had been asked about his bandaged hand, smashed in a car door during a desperate bid to find drugs his father couldn't track he'd gotten. He was trapped in Harold's axis and couldn't get out then. He'd have done anything at that point to never have to deal with his father's insanity again. And now look where he was...

“It's nothing.”

His vague answer didn't bother Harold in the slightest, and brought the man back to the drink, tapping it with his finger.

“Go on. Drink it.”

He gave his dad an impatient look. “I told you I didn't want it.”

When he tried to put the drink down, his arm was gripped, preventing him from completing the action. Irritated, he looked at him.

“What's the problem, Harold? It's just a drink.”

“I've missed you. I didn't like being so far away from you,” he confessed. “I want us to have a drink together.”

“Why? You gonna hit me again?”

Pressing his luck. It was what he did. His words and attitude were the only weapon he'd ever really been able to use against his father. He was as pathetic and weak-willed as his father thought, as Joy had accused him of a few times after Danny Rand reappeared in New York.

“I don't want to hit you, Ward.”

He leaned forward, locking eyes with his father. “Why not? Need your camera here first?”

The eyes went cold, fingers reaching out to wrap around the glass in his hand, taking it from him.

“So you know about that.”

Bile rose in his throat. It was one thing to hear something like that told to him secondhand, but his dad wasn't denying its validity. The guy was absolutely twisted and evil. Why the hell did he tiptoe around it for so many years? Harold had never shown a hint of remorse for anything. Even when he'd claimed to Joy he regretted choosing his son over her when he thought he was going to be permanently killed, the words left his mouth hollow.

“Helped me get through some lonely days,” he admitted much to Ward's horror. “But that's in the past. Now, drink.”

The glass was placed to his lips and when he tried to turn away, his hair was gripped harshly. Face and glass shoved together, his head was released and fingers shoved into his mouth, stretching it open. He tried to bite down on the fingers but then the burning liquid pouring into his throat distracted him. Grimacing, the entirety of the drink made it into him.

Satisfied, Harold let him go and he fell forward, coughing and choking. Empty glass in hand, he went to refill, returning with a second and holding it out to him. Managing to get a grip on himself, he glanced at it and then at his dad, feeling his eyes filling with tears from the quantity of liquor ingested.

He received a hard look when he took too long to obey and accepted the glass with great reluctance. The serious stare continued until he figured out what was wanted. He sipped a small amount of the drink, but it was good enough for the other man, who contented, sat down on the couch diagonal from him.

“There are some matters of importance to discuss,” his father began, an all too familiar start to one of his obnoxious speeches. “The first rule of war is to know your enemy. And since we know our enemy, it should be easy enough to avoid them so long as we're careful.”

He didn't specify who “them” was, but it was easy enough to assume he meant these defenders of New York that tended to be popular in the papers lately. He'd be happy he wasn't out to kill anyone this time, except it didn't improve the odds on his end in the slightest. It might even make them worse.

“I can go as I please as long as I'm careful about who might see me. Isn't that great? I get real freedom unlike under that bitch, Gao. I get to be with my son and I get my company back with you in my stead.”

No way was he working for his dad. He wouldn't live that miserable life again. He was off the drugs, addiction turning out to solely be an extension of his desire to block the hell of his father from his head. He couldn't go back to that.

“Hey,” snapping fingers drew his gaze, “Are you listening to me?”

Blinking dubiously at him, he said, “Dad, I shot you until you fell off a 45 story building. I'm not being a puppet to you again. You act a good game, but you're manipulating, and frankly, you're evil.”

“Oh don't be ridiculous.”

“I'm not. Danny told me how you always wanted to kill the man who was supposed to be your best friend. It's too bad he couldn't see you for the monster you were until it was too late.”

Harold was shaking his head at him, ready and willing to disparage his thoughts. “I do what needs to be done, always have. Do you think the company would be where it is now if it weren't for me? I'm disappointed you still can't see the big picture.”

“Which is what?” he exclaimed, setting his nearly full drink on the table and standing. “What are you trying to prove? That you can have power? Nobody cares!”

“You really don't understand...” his father uttered, bafflement in his words.

“Well you're so much better than me, right? I'm too stupid to get your grand plan for the world. You're constantly telling me things I already know like I don't know them. Ever think I don't want to know? I never wanted to be involved in the crazy and amoral shit you do.”

As usual, Harold heard the part he decided he would hear, and had something to say concerning it.

“I don't think you're stupid, Ward. I just think you're contrary, and that's an issue for me.”

“It's my company now. Danny and I are the new generation and we're not going to let corruption become part of us. You might have been willing to sell whatever soul you had when you made a deal with the Hand, but I won't do the same.”

“Don't get self-righteous with me, son. You were plenty willing to have others do bad things for you if it made your life easier. Sending my security after Rand..how many times? It's fine as long as you don't have to get your own hands dirty, isn't that right?”

He flinched at the darker parts of himself he didn't like to admit or take too hard a look at. He'd made some questionable decisions in the past, happy and relieved to do them knowing it would make his father happier and off his case. They were mistakes. At least he accepted that's what they were, unlike Harold, who thought it was a weakness he didn't go and do the deed with his own two hands.

“I mistakenly thought I could make a decision that would have you proud of me finally. I was a pathetic kid desperate to please his father. I've grown a lot in the time you've been gone, Harold. And it's time you understand what's important to you isn't important to me.”

“The company is mine and you will get on board, Ward.” Harold declared. “This is important for us both, even if you choose not to believe it.”

His father finished his drink and set the glass on the table, observing him, in all likelihood judging. He turned away from the intense focus and rolled his eyes, slumping in his chair. It was a bizarre thing to be seen as rich and powerful by anyone on the outside looking in, when on the inside, he was as powerless as he was at eight years old. Eight was the age his dad stopped any and every possibility of a life outside his controlling influence.

“You never get it, Ward,” he finally said.

Oh come on. He was sick of hearing this crap. Only _his_ dad could be proud of him for betraying him with Bakuto and the Hand in the past, claiming it took balls to do such a thing. And only his dad would be willing to work with that same man, and the son who crossed him. Such was his delusion his children would ever not hate him for destroying their family and faith in a father.

“Always fighting me,” he continued. “Making me get angry with you.”

Frustration at a high, he started to walk around the chair, planning to return to his bathroom. He could hope Harold would leave him alone for a few hours. A sharp pain as a fist collided with his side brought him to his knees. He groaned and gritted his teeth, struggling to showcase the least amount of outward agony possible.

“You should be grateful I don't punish you for betraying me,” his father pointed out.

In a little bit too much pain to respond, he just looked up as the man came to stand before him.

“You belong to me. Never forget it.”

He worked through the pain, feeling it necessary to respond. “I'm not yours. Sick fuck.”

Harold smiled down at him. He twisted about momentarily to pick up Ward's abandoned drink. Knowing what he was going to do, he tried to move. The other caught him by the back of his collar and pulled, causing him to stumble into his solid form. A grip that felt like iron encased him when he wrapped his arm around his back, and then the fingers were jamming into his mouth once more.

His own arms stuck by his sides in the tight hold, he had no trouble forcing the bourbon down his throat a second time. Badly reacting to it, he started to cough, which Harold reacted to by removing his fingers to seal his mouth shut until there was nothing else to do but finish swallowing the harsh fluid. Hand left covering his mouth, the other man leaned close to his ear.

“Kuo insists you be kept awake today,” his dad murmured in his ear. “Since I already got plenty of rest earlier in my cryo chamber, whatever shall we do to pass the time?”

/

_THURSDAY, NIGHT_

“It's been 64 hours since you last slept.” Kuo revealed to him.

This was the first time Ward had seen the guy since he was ambushed in his room. His phone taken that initial night, as no one came looking for him from the company, he figured they must have been sending texts or e-mail or something to confirm to his assistant that he was unavailable. There was a lot of work he was responsible for though, to delegate it to other company members, wouldn't do him any favors. It was feasible and the company would accept it, as they'd attempted ousting the very names behind Rand Enterprises in the past and nearly succeeded. It was depressing to know nobody would suspect it wasn't even him sending the messages. If Joy was still around, she would have noticed and been concerned something was up. But she wasn't, and he was alone like they said he was.

Eyes heavy, he wearily looked toward the man talking to him. He was presently sitting on the carpet of his living room, having been pushed off the couch by one of the ninja assholes when he started to drift to sleep minutes earlier. It was difficult to think straight, let alone process and remember new information coming in. He was too tired to care.

He leaned the back of his head against the soft couch and closed his eyes. Hands slapped him several times, careful to only hit hard enough to leave redness instead of any mark more permanent. They wanted him in condition to be seen at work soon.

A whining noise left his mouth, incensed they wouldn't let him sleep a few goddamn minutes. For possibly the millionth time in the last few days, he thought about how tired he was and how badly he wanted to sleep. What were they trying to accomplish?

The ninja moved away when Kuo approached and came to sit beside him on the floor. “Have you given my proposition further consideration?”

“Nope. Too tired.”

He felt hands on him and didn't bother to bat them away as he was rolled partially over. Warm hands pressed against his shirt and then slipped under, lifting the shirt up his back. He winced at a few particularly sensitive areas being touched by probing fingertips. Turning him completely over, he raised the shirt up to his neckline and ordered the ninja hovering nearby to hold it in place.

Ward felt Kuo get up and disappear someplace else, and in the next instant he'd returned and was kneeling by him. He blinked. It had been like he'd teleported. His lack of sleep was really messing with his perception. Resting his chin on the edge of the couch, he felt the man pour something onto the bare skin of his back and he hissed in discomfort.

“I see your father has been busy giving you new reminders of his dissatisfaction.”

“He doesn't mean to scar,” he mumbled. “It happens sometimes when he hits too hard.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Kuo observed, using something soft to dab at the thin cuts across his backside. “You have a handful of old marks here and there. He must have been quite upset with you this time. I count five lines that drew blood.”

“Why won't you let me sleep?”

“Suggestion,” he answered simply. “Are you having second thoughts?”

He thought maybe he was supposed to be thinking seriously on his question, but he was left mostly confused. What were they talking about? This was exceedingly stressful to have the inability to focus on any one thing for very long. And now he'd forgotten what was said to him in the first place.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Something was being applied to each of the cuts on his back, the welts left alone. It stung but he embraced the feeling, encouraged to remember reason from it somehow. His shirt was tugged down again and Kuo helped him up from the floor.

Slinging his arm around a supportive shoulder, he helped him toward the bedroom. Was he being allowed to sleep? Excitement at the prospect flooded his system, and he felt his mind quiet, eyes sliding closed. Then a hand closed about his throat, cutting his airway off.

He weakly struggled to remove the hand, to breathe despite his inability to do so. It was too hard. He was already drifting. A sharp slap brought him into a new awareness.

There was no longer anything cutting off his oxygen and he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Kuo sat on his right and several people were standing in front of them. Bleary eyed, he moved his heavy head to get a look at the three of them.

“Ward Meachum, I'd like you to meet your new guard. When you are outside the walls of this house, they will protect you and most importantly, they will watch you.”

“What for?” he asked meekly.

It was too exhausting to muster up his usual put-on, sanctimonious tone.

“I trust eventually you will open your eyes and see things from a new perspective. I need only wait.”

“Better keep waiting,” he uttered, frowning slightly. Did his speech slur just then? “I won't be your servant.”

“For the time being, you will sleep. Go to work tomorrow as any other day. When you return home, Harold will be your company. Unless you want to cooperate and prove loyalty to me.”

He removed a folded piece of paper from his inner jacket pocket and placed it on the bedside table. Lazily, he followed it with uninterested eyes before returning his gaze to the man sitting where he much wanted to fall over and lose consciousness.

“These are monetary amounts and bank accounts I would like initiated by you, should you change your mind about working with me. We would be partners. As partners, if you show me this good faith, I will do the same and rid you of your monster.”

Staring past the tempter at his soft, soft pillow, he resigned to shake his head. “No thanks. Do whatever you want to me, it won't make the answer any different. Unlike Harold, I can't be bought.”

“Everyone has a price. Harold's was life itself. The chance to survive his illness and live again. Yours... Is not self-preservation or the avoidance of pain. You've learned to endure by whatever means necessary in the most trying of times, using only your own suffering to get it done. Impressive. Wasted.”

Kuo put fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head so their eyes met.

“Physical pain continues to diminish a man's resolve, however, and entrapment. We understand you greatly despise being controlled and used. I offer partnership, a thing your father never would have given. While he remains alive, you will never be free. I can free you.”

Ward was maneuvered to lie flat on the bed, the other man standing to pull the covers on top of him.

“You have a second chance to make the right choice. The world isn't what it used to be. Together we will rule the new world as kings.”

A sweet dream swept him away.


	5. Chapter 4: Matter of Chance

**_“Everybody wants the ability to prevent bad things from happening, but unfortunately,_ **  
**_sometimes it's just a matter of chance.”_ **  
**_-Ward Meachum_ **

_FRIDAY, LATE AFTERNOON-THREE WEEKS, THREE DAYS SINCE **TUESDAY**_

“Who the hell are you?”

Ward jumped and swung around to find a big guy standing on a metal walkway above him. He was dressed in black, a long coat flapping after him as he hopped over the railing to a lower landing. It was unmistakable this was the famed vigilante. The white skull adorned across his front was hardly necessary to make the man wearing it intimidating. He brought death to people, and his eyes did enough to advertise that fact in his opinion.

He was walking down a set of stairs, to meet him where he stood on the ground floor of the warehouse. One of his hands was tucked away inside the coat. Probably a gun. Or a knife. Definitely nothing harmless.

“You're the Punisher, right? The one who punishes the criminals?”

As he continued to come nearer, the thought occurred he wasn't actually that big. Normal-sized, about his height, but it was the manner in which he carried himself which made him appear larger. Somehow it made him seem bigger, broad-shouldered and tough. The sight of him alone sent shivers along his spine. Good. He needed someone scarier.

“Well? Aren't you?”

The guy stopped a mere foot from him, peering into his face like it was offending. He supposed someone who did what he did wouldn't get welcome visitors dropping in. It wasn't like Ward was happy to be here either.

He leaned back and scanned him from head to toe, an eyebrow arching. “Get lost on your way to the gala, princess?”

“What? No,” he uttered, confusion leaking out before the immediate realization afterward that of course he didn't actually think it was why he was here.

He was out of his depth, making him uncomfortable and a little off. His fingers toyed with his tie, wishing he would have had the opportunity to change clothes before coming. These days there wasn't much time he had to his self.

Now Ward could play the cool guy in near any situation, but pretending was a far cry from the true feelings going on inside. And this Punisher held a reputation of terror and brutality.

Gathering his courage, he met the man's bemused eyes. “I had good reason to believe I could find you here. That you have a thing for hanging around run-down places and the like. It took some time, but I managed to get lucky.”

The other man didn't like that. He reclaimed the foot between them and then some so his forehead was pressed up against his. A hand squeezed his shoulder and the one within his coat pulled out a knife. The cold metal touched the skin of his cheek and he froze. Curiously, it was the dull side touching him. Trying to appear harmless, he put both arms up in the air to show he wasn't threatening.

“You never answered my question,” the man said gruffly. “Who the hell are you?”

He pressed his luck. “You only kill criminals, right? So you won't kill me.”

“I'm thinking you're not exactly innocent coming around a place like this like you are. Bet you're a criminal or in the works to be one. So I'm calling you a criminal, yeah? Specially suspicious being one who looks like he walked off a catalog page.”

Ignoring a second jab at his appearance, he answered. “If it's someone who only appears to be a criminal, that's different, yes?”

“What the hell you talking about, preppie?”

“His real name was buried too deep but I believe he goes by Micro-”

The hand with the knife flipped it so some of his fingers could latch tightly about his jaw, squeezing painfully and preventing him from continuing.

“You're not gonna say another word except to tell me how you know that name and what else you think you know,” he growled into his face.

Ward's chin was released and he instinctively stepped back to put distance between them. The Punisher's hand remained on his shoulder though, and did not give in the slightest as he attempted pulling away. Stuck where he was with this guy practically breathing down his neck and a hundred percent promising violence if he didn't like what he heard, he answered simple.

“I have a lot of money. Makes it pretty easy to find something out if I really want to know. I learned he's been helping you on occasion with hard targets and other information. That's all.”

“Name,” he commanded.

He'd known the name-giving would likely be inevitable. Still, he prayed this wouldn't bite him in the ass. In his current predicament, he would more than take his chances.

“Ward Meachum, CEO of Rand Enterprises.”

There was no recognition, a blank stare fixed on him. Then his head tilted a bit. “Meachum. The billionaire.”

Silence. His eyes darted around the large, open room uncertainly. Was his identity in doubt..?

“Why would you be looking for me?”

He sounded genuinely puzzled.

“I require the Punisher's services.” Ward was quick to tell him. “I can pay you whatever you want.”

Frowning. “Just what do you think I do exactly?”

“Punish people. Kill them. You take out the guilty, right?”

A low chuckle. “Think I'm some kind of hit man, Meachum?”

“I _know_ you kill people,” he pressed, the beginnings of impatience stirring. “I need you to kill someone.”

The Punisher removed his hand and took to sort of stalking about a semi-circle area in front of him. When he decided to address him again, he said his words thick with derision and dismissal.

“But that would make you a criminal. Don't you get hiring a killer is practically the same as doing the deed yourself? Knew I had you pegged. That aside, you've got billions. Hire some professional yourself and wham, done. You don't need someone like me.”

“You get the job done. You don't stop until it's finished. You're the man I need. The person I want you to kill, doesn't die easy. He has to go a certain way, and there are very dangerous people behind him. If they proved an obstacle, someone like you could handle it.”

He was smiling and scoffing over his proposal. This wasn't being considered as a serious request or the Punisher found it ridiculous, or both. Neither would get him what he wanted. He didn't like not even being considered.

“Name a price. It's yours.”

“Think you can buy me? Think I give a damn about money? Is this some rich kid trying to make a problem go away by waving a stack of bills at it? Get out of here. Don't try to find me again.”

“No, it's not-It's. Money is what I've got,” he managed to spit out, stumbling on his own words as he worked to explain why he was even doing this crazy thing in the first place. “If there's something else.. Look, I need your help.”

The man was shaking his head, clearly amused more than anything. “Not interested. Go find someone else to do your dirty work.”

This wasn't going in his favor. He never thought the man would get offended by his request. He could really be shit with people sometimes. There had to be some way to keep this thing from totally going off the rails.

Starting to walk away, toward the exit Ward originally came through when he arrived, the guy sneered over his shoulder, “Wanting to get yourself a hired gun. Daddy should've raised you better.”

He snorted. “You have no idea.”

Guy had no clue how blindingly accurate he could be proven to be. Daddy issues was the easiest way to describe the fucked up life that was his past and present existence, but it barely did it justice. He glanced at his watch and grimaced at the reading.

Ward bit on his bottom lip, mulling over how to be the suave and convincing businessman he was supposed to be. His window for slipping outside the office unnoticed was closing fast. Figure it out...

The man had at least stopped walking away, but his back was yet turned toward him. This might be his last opportunity to plead his case before he disappeared. He inhaled deep and gave it his best.

“Please listen, Mr. Castle, sir. This man I want dead, he is evil. I'm not exaggerating and it isn't lacking thought. A permanent death is the only way to stop him from hurting anybody else. And he's hurt plenty of people. Cops can't help. Neither can-Listen, you're the one option I could think of succeeding.”

The other gave him that vacant stare, a look he now understood meant he was calculating what was heard because it was unfamiliar to his ears. Was he way off the mark? Was he an idiot to come here and expect a yes?

“Don't call me sir,” came the unexpected remark.

“Okay, Mr. Cas-”

“It's just Frank.”

He paused a moment before giving him a slight nod. “Okay. Frank.”

“Murder might not be a big deal to me, cause who I was died with my family. But it also means I understand what it does to a person's soul. You gotta ask yourself if you can do that kind of damage to yourself.”

Ward was surprised and impressed at the man's personal honesty coming out of the blue. He felt incentive to share his own honesty in turn and yet... It seemed a bit complicated to try and explain he'd killed twice before. Killed the same person, twice, and the guy kept returning to haunt him. Maybe there was a God and this was his ironic form of punishment for committing murder.

“What did this guy do that warrants death in your book, huh? Why does he need to go?”

Now this was a question he did assume might happen. His response was ready enough as it was going to be.

“He's killed people, some of them innocent. If someone doesn't stop him, more people are going to end up dead. He wants bad things, Frank. And I'm being coerced to help them. I don't want that. I don't want anything to do with them. But I don't think what I want is going to matter much longer.”

/

_TUESDAY, EARLY EVENING-TWO WEEKS SINCE **TUESDAY**_

_“Two weeks have passed. I presume you haven't reconsidered.”_

_“No,” he retorted shortly. “You can't leave me alone with him and expect anything different.”_

_“But you're not alone.” Kuo corrected, walking to the kitchen table where Ward sat unhappily. “My people will make certain he never goes too far. We understand his reincarnations have increasingly encouraged him to be.. passionate.”_

_“Is that seriously the word you're going with?”_

_“I think it's sufficient. What he believes, he believes passionately, and if someone believes contrary or acts contrary..like say, concerning ice cream?”_

_When it became clear by the look on his face that he didn't understand, he clarified. “The poor boy. What was his name? Unwisely worked as an assistant for your father.”_

_He comprehended then. Kyle. He knew something bad happened to him when he disappeared. He was always around to be available to his father's calls and orders. When he wasn't, he suspected his dad did something to him. It wasn't too long after Harold took a plunge from the rooftop of Rand Enterprises that they discovered the body in his penthouse. Mean f-..._

_Hands clapped together, distracting him from his thoughts. Ward lifted his gaze as Kuo was sitting down at the opposite end of the table. That was where his father usually sat. Often, he was fortunate enough to merely be subjected to hours of inane chatter before going to bed. Sadly, ashamedly, he'd adapted quite quickly to going to his room for sleep and being raped. Sometimes he could sleep. Sometimes it was impossible. And sometimes, his dad was displeased with him or his own life, and chose to torture him for most of the night instead of leaving him alone after._

_“Perhaps it's because you've failed to eat as scheduled.”_

_He once again withdrew from his mind. “Huh?”_

_Ward was examined methodically. “I was saying you appeared distracted. Eat your dinner.”_

_“I'm not hungry,” he said stubbornly, knowing that wasn't what would be tolerated._

_The man glanced away and then back at him. “Please, Ward, eat for your own health. The situation in which you find yourself, it's temporary. A setback on the path to a beautiful future.”_

_“I already told you I won't help you. What do you want? There must be something else or you wouldn't still be here.”_

_“Think I'm failing to use my time wisely? Your concern is noted, though hardly touching, hm? But you are right to have your own self-interest in mind. I have your own interests in mind as well.”_

_He straightened in his chair, gaining discomfort in each beating second, chest heavy. “What do you mean?”_

_Kuo smiled kindly and waved an arm through the air. “Stay calm. I have good news. Your father will be arriving later for his visits from now on.”_

_Good? That was wonderful, bordering on ecstatic news. Except this guy used to be with Hand. They didn't ever do anything for anyone without strings attached. Why was this being done? That was the question._

_“As a sign of good faith on my part, I will begin having you trained a few hours every night. I intend to actualize our partnership, Ward. You are yet young and can learn. The coming world will accept only those bearing proper hearts. You have great valor in you, stifled by the corporate nature of this current cesspool of toxicity.”_

_This man was serious about everything he was telling him. He really believed a new world was coming and he was going to help make it happen. What the hell was going on out there? His confidence made Ward begin to doubt his own rigidity. What he wanted might not matter if everything he ever knew went away._

_A thought occurred to him. “If corporations and wealth are symptoms of a sick society, then why do you need them so bad? Why do you need Rand?”_

_Kuo nodded slowly, encouraging his curiosity. “Yes. Use what makes it tick to bring it down. There's a tragic poetry to it, don't you think?”_

_“I guess. Uh, why is he here?”_

_One of the ninjas was hovering in the shadows just outside the dining room. His watchers didn't normally come inside. As far as he understood, they weren't supposed to unless there was a problem. Ward's fingers wrapped around his fork. It would make as good a weapon as any if they decided letting his dad at him wasn't enough._

_“Ah, join us. Owen has volunteered to be the one who will train you. My allies need to believe in their strength, and I think that's an issue for you. So he'll teach you some physical moves and perhaps it will improve your mind's resilience.”_

_“I thought you wanted me to break. Break and you think I'll help you.”_

_“Would that work?” he asked, lip quirking upward in slight amusement._

_“Never.”_

_The ninja entered the room impossibly silent. He glanced at his boss, master, whatever he might call him, and then removed the headpiece. The man was conventionally handsome and well groomed. He looked to be a few years older than Ward and his gaze sought him out._

_When their eyes met, he momentarily froze. Big brown eyes. Sad. Regretful. Surprised. The eyes that saw him being dragged into a room by his master and the screams and brutal assault he surely heard afterward. Did he think his master took a turn? Did it matter that he hadn't? Did he care at all? He cared..._

_Possibly feeling how his look was speaking to him without meaning to, Owen turned his face away to regard Kuo. The Heart leader was staring down at a phone in his palm. Tapping across the screen briefly, he shut it off and put it away in his jacket. His attention focused on Ward._

_“Then it's what will be. Remember, when you're ready to have your father removed, I will do so. And our partnership can finally begin.”_

_He wanted to yell at the man walking away that it wouldn't work. He's not as weak as he thinks he is. He won't break just because Harold decided he liked raping him every single night. Except they both knew without saying it aloud, it was a lie. Fourteen long nights and he was already showing signs of cracking. Thin cracks, but the evidence was there. Ward couldn't take such abuse every single night._

_They spent the first minutes staring, each trying to get a read on the other. Then the ninja sat in one of the chairs and set to watching him. When he didn't do anything but look right back, he explained himself._

_“Finish eating, then we will begin.”_

_“I'm not-”_

_“Kuo is right about eating. Survival should be your goal. Win in here,” he told, tapping the side of his own head. “To win out there. Eat, train, and get stronger.”_

_Ward was tired of everyone giving him “advice”. It was Harold's favorite thing to do too. He didn't have it in him to continue verbally sparring with yet another person set on removing his free will. Instead, he pretended nothing else existed but the food in front of him and this singular moment. He ate. The food was cold, but since he had zero appetite in the first place, the process of eating was a mechanical one._

_When he finished, the man stood from his chair and gave him a nod. “For now, lose the outer wear. Tonight will be simple elements of self-defense. The other nights, I'd prefer you wear gym clothes.”_

_He sighed, not wanting to do any of this in the slightest. As he removed his suit jacket and tie, unbuttoning the dress shirt, he considered the circumstance. Training was a thing he could turn into an outlet, into something he was in control of at least a little. He would have to be the one who determined how hard he tried. Maybe one day he could even stop..._

_The concept fell away. He stood in dress pants and a white tank top and his arms were being stared at. Self-conscious, he folded his arms in front to stand firm._

_“What?”_

_“Your muscular build, it's good. It will help.”_

_Surprised, he shrugged and lowered his arms to his sides. He'd never thought of himself as muscle, as it never benefited him in any way. People told him he was naturally good looking too. He didn't see that either. Ward responsibly dealt with the upkeep of his exterior appearance as representative of the company, to follow what was expected of him. That's all._

_“I haven't worked out in years, really,” he shared blandly. “Was a means to vent stress in high school and college.”_

_The other man was regarding him with a level of awareness he wasn't comfortable with. He opened his mouth and made Ward feel further invaded._

_“But you stopped, because the muscle didn't stop him when you needed to most.”_

_“Did you get your thrills when you saw the videos, Owen?” he mockingly asked in a vain attempt to protect himself._

_“No.” Owen answered quick and resolute. “Let's begin. There are several moves you can use against someone who is stronger than you...”_

/

“Who's them?”

Frank was examining him curiously.

He put the memory away into the recesses of his mind, working out a fraction of chance this was going to happen was occurring beyond low expectation. Naturally, when he thought hope, that was when God or fate or whatever might be, deemed fit to take it from him.

“Guess it was a good coincidence I happened by.”

Ward managed to smother the shocked sound that nearly slipped from his mouth when a third person was revealed to be in the room, suddenly speaking. Frank twisted on his heel and gripped his knife in front of himself, shaking it at someone unseen. The mysterious speaker stepped out of the shadows to stand beneath the warehouse lighting.

It was freakin' Daredevil. What the hell was going on? Why was some street-level hero of the people lurking inside a warehouse where the Punisher was at? Were the two allies or enemies anyway? He never knew what to believe when it came to tabloid articles or rumors by word of mouth. If he were wise, he'd listen to none of it, so that's what he usually did. Something was either true or it wasn't.

“Coincidence, my ass,” growled Frank. “This is the second time this month you decided to snoop around on me.”

The man wearing red from head to toe shrugged a shoulder. “Just looking out for you, Frank. Making sure you don't go too far.. anywhere in my city.”

Waving the knife at him a final time, he slid the weapon back into his coat. “Goddammit. My business is none of yours. Stop getting involved.”

“Can't do that,” he retorted, and then his head shifted in his direction.

Ward flinched, staring at those eerie eyes in his mask. Could he see through those things? Of course he could. He'd have to, moving the way the news reported he did. It was unnerving to have his focus.

“I heard a discussion concerning the potential murder of someone. You need to think about what you're doing.”

What...? Was he being lectured right now?

“The eavesdropping is creepy, dude.” Frank informed him, obviously ruffled at the intrusion. “Don't you have some crime to go stop elsewhere?”

Keeping his gaze held on Ward, he responded to the Punisher. “I'm where I need to be.”

This attempt had officially gone wrong. Everyone knew the Daredevil helped the underdog, saved lives and was against killing. He was facing the dead end he feared would happen if he failed here. He checked his watch. It would be a close shave returning to the office with some feasible lie prepared. Whether they believed him or not, he was probably going to pay for slipping the guard.

“What are you doing here? No matter how much you hate someone, or how much you think you need to hurt someone, you don't. Don't screw your life up. Go home. Remember all the good you have and stop entertaining the idea of murder. It won't solve anything.”

“I really think it will solve everything.” Ward asserted. “If this guy's dead then there's a chance I can get out. I get out and people that need to be warned can be warned. Look, you just don't get my situation.”

“Explain it to me then.”

Not asking. Hm. Well he wasn't answering either.

“What does that mean, 'get out'?” Frank inquired, passing over the other man's desire for less obscurity. “Out how?”

Ward answered hurriedly, trying to rush this dialogue. He had to be going, soon. If they started searching for him that could be real bad.

“I couldn't risk going anywhere they might be watching or think to look. Phone calls are out too. They can be found and recalled. I meant what I said. You're my best choice, Frank.”

They would assume he was referring to business associates and colleagues he presumed. No concern of anything more being uncovered that could place himself or anyone else at risk. He began edging toward the exit, peering at his watch like it might somehow tell him better news.

“What's your name? Why do you feel murder is the answer? What's the problem?”

The actual vigilante, Daredevil, sounded like he cared. It would be interestingly bizarre if he wasn't growing more and more concerned about when his disappearance was discovered. Plus, this man was a probable roadblock in his bid for freedom. He lost his chance and it was a weak chance from the beginning. Still, disappointment flooded through his system. How long could he keep going?

“Listen, I have to get back to the office. Sorry I wasted your time, Frank.”

Daredevil moved to block his exit when he was turning to leave. He looked warily at him.

“I have to go.”

“I hear your heart. You're afraid.”

“Hear my what? Did you say Heart?”

He relaxed a fraction when he understood he didn't mean Heart, but the organ. Though that just made it turn from potentially panic-inducing to..strange.

“That's..weird. Yep, that's weird.” Shaking away the momentary amusement, he tried to play off the fear. “And I'm just nervous. I have things I need to get done. I really do need to get back before they miss me.”

The man shook his head. “I can tell the difference between nerves and fear.”

A beat, and then he asked completely deadpan, “How?”

Question ignored, Daredevil claimed to him, “Tell me your name and I won't stop you from leaving.”

He couldn't tell that. Danny and this guy had history. Unfortunately, the Punisher chose the moment to answer for him. There was always the hope he wouldn't make the connection, but he also didn't peg Daredevil as dumb.

“You're in the presence of one of the richest of the rich. His name's Ward Meachum. A real young guy to be running a billion dollar company, don't you think, Red? Too bad we couldn't inherit a bunch of money from our fathers. Maybe our lives would have turned out differently. Or maybe not.”

No matter the progress he'd imagined the two of them might have been making before Daredevil showed up, once again Frank was sounding bemused. He was probably never going to take the job anyway. What a waste of a risk.

The exact second he figured his precise identity out was broadcast on his face. “Ward Meachum... Of Rand Enterprises? You're Danny's Ward?”

Sounding uninterested, yet asking it anyway, Frank uttered, “Who's Danny?”

In the next moment he pieced the answer together himself. “Oh right. Rand. The kid who came back from the dead after fifteen years. He's supposed to be running the company as a partner with you, yeah?”

“Hardly,” he disagreed a little too aggressively, and made an effort to tone down the second part of his retort. “I'm on my own.”

Presently, Daredevil was looking especially befuddled. “What are you doing? I doubt Danny has any idea you're here and he wouldn't be happy to-”

“I don't have time for this.” Ward cut him off. “Danny does his own thing and I do mine.”

Already he was annoyed with how little this guy knew about anything concerning their odd relationship. Which was the nicest way to describe it. Danny Rand was an old friend who showed up alive, hung around making things harder on everyone he used to know, and then ran off again. He rarely saw the guy even after they finally made amends and determined to take charge of Rand Enterprises as it should be managed. Admittedly, business wasn't the younger man's forte, and he was running about playing hero, which wasn't..bad.. But it remained that the choices ended with Ward in a supremely horrid position in what constituted his present life. He just wasn't feeling particularly forgiving or patient because of it.

“Why is this guy you want dead so important to be in the ground?” Daredevil pressed. “Why do you want a man to die so bad?”

Before he gave him any sort of answer, he prodded, “Since you know my name, I can go freely, yes?”

He was given a slow nod of affirmation which satisfied him into telling what he wanted to know.

“Because he's dangerous. Because if he doesn't die, I'm going to. And he's not a man. Not anymore.”

His legs headed quickly for the exit, afraid one of them would stop him and not let him leave. Why he thought they would try to keep him here, he wasn't sure. Too much time among untrustworthy and dangerous people, he supposed.

A brief final stop at the exit, where he twisted back toward the two men continuing to stand where they were, mostly motionless. They were watching him walk away. Now that he was leaving, the reason he came was weighing on him more than he'd like. Guilt and uncertainty were beginning to plague his conscious mind.

“Please,” he told him his plea in a soft voice. “That I was here...”

He hesitated and then pushed the rest out of his mouth so he couldn't change what he'd say. “Don't tell Danny.”


	6. Chapter 5: Stay That Way

_**“The Danny Rand I knew, he's dead and I want him to stay that way.”** _   
_**-Ward Meachum** _

_TUESDAY, LATE MORNING_

“Danny! What are you doing here?”

Danny broke off his conversation with Colleen to see Ward standing in the hallway near the elevators. He wore one of his striking three-piece suits and an expression of surprise. Drawing to a halt, he studied his visitors before nodding finality to the three business associates with him, two men and a woman, bidding them farewell.

“You're in luck,” he mentioned to him and Colleen, giving a welcoming smile. “I was just finding myself with some free time.”

He motioned for them to follow and strode past, heading for his office. Then peering over his shoulder, he gave a smug smile. He did a bit of a spin on his heel and altered their path to instead enter Danny's old office. Actually, he supposed it was still his office, as Ward made him official partner after Harold died for real and Joy took off.

“Why don't we use your office?” he suggested rhetorically. “Somebody should, right?”

Temporarily forgetting why he'd come, Danny returned a smile. It was true that it wasn't exactly fair to leave the company to be run alone by one man, but he wasn't lying concerning his own place in the business sector. He didn't know a single thing about being a businessman. Even if he wasn't dedicated to protecting the people of this city, he would be useless sitting at a desk trying to understand documents and bottom lines.

“Okay,” he said, and felt the need to apologize. “Sorry about not being here more.”

“Or at all?” amended Ward in his frequently utilized flat speech, sitting in the chair that would be his if he ever actually used the room.

When a person spoke in such a manner, it could make it difficult to assess whether the words were serious, humorous, or any other various levels of expression. Usually with Ward, he was a mix of sincere and scorn. It was disheartening to see he continued to keep his feelings hidden from him. He thought they'd gotten past that.

Considering it could be their current location and this was possibly his business-mode, Danny took a seat without comment. Colleen sat in the chair next to him and they both looked across the desk at Ward. The setting was much too formal for what they preferred.

“How have you two been?” They were asked, the man trying for casual conversation with a pair of very abnormal people. “How's the hero business?”

Beside him, Colleen shrugged her shoulders. “Ah you know, take care of an asshole there, maybe do a little spring cleaning over here.”

Ward scoffed and reclined in his chair. “Still thankless? Maybe a bit grimy?”

Danny glanced down at the sweats and zip-up sweatshirt he was wearing. This was what he had on when he left Chikara Dojo. He'd remembered shoes anyway...

“Is it a big deal? Should I have put on my suit for this?”

His earnestness amused the CEO, a small smirk breaking out on his face. He waved the concern away, shaking his head a bit.

“Nah, you're the Rand in Rand. You can wear whatever you damn well please.”

A moment of quiet descended, each of them taking turns looking at one another in quick takes. He was the one who had come to see Ward, but truthfully, he was terrible at discussing important things without coming across as confrontational or aggressive. When he was of a lesser conscious mind, he could be down to earth and peaceful, but those moments were typically reserved for his meditations or special circumstances. K'un-Lun was virtually nothing like New York City, and the acclimation to familiarize himself with his home had been an arduous task.

Clearing his throat, Ward glanced at the shut door and then returned his attention to them. “So what brings you to see me? Did you need something from the company? Megan didn't inform me of anything but if there's something..?

He felt sad. So busy with his desire to figure out his destiny and seek meaning in his role as the Iron Fist, he was only realizing now that he'd taken an old friend for granted. With Joy pulling her disappearing act after being fed up by her life and family, Ward was the single person who stuck around to help him. He risked himself for Danny that night when Harold revealed the wicked he was, even saved him by killing his own father.

And in the months following, he was swept up in the search and disappearance of K'un-Lun, meeting other warriors of New York, and defeating the Hand once and for all. When the whirlwind of frustration and victory finally ended, he'd determined to take the Daredevil's place out on the streets, protecting the city in his stead. Now that Matt returned to the city to resume his mantle as defender, having miraculously survived the wreck of the collapsed building and returning once he'd healed, Danny tended to have more time on his hands if he wanted it.

Ward assumed he was here because he needed something. That had essentially been the sole reason he'd contacted him in the last year and a half. He was shitty family. The two of them had each other remaining from their childhoods, when things were simpler and their respective families intact. Yet he neglected that bond, letting the man slip from his mind entirely in his focus to perfect his own purpose.

“Danny?”

He turned his head to meet her face, noting she was staring at him with concern. “Everything okay?”

Danny gave her a reassuring smile before straightening in his chair and deciding it was best to get right to it.

“No, we don't need anything from the company,” he informed. “From you, that's a different story.”

Curious, he threw up his hands in bewilderment. “What does that mean?”

“You don't need me to tell you what I'm talking about,” he surmised. “You know what you're doing.”

He continued to seem perplexed and annoyance colored his voice. “Just what are you accusing me of, Danny?”

Distracted by spotting something out of place, he narrowed his eyes at Ward's throat. “Is that a cut?”

“Huh?” He felt his neck precisely where the cut was. “Oh, yeah. Cut myself shaving this morning. Happened when I lost my grip on the damn thing.”

Becoming a bit more vain, he peered at his clothing, trying to get a glimpse at his collar. “Did I get any blood on my suit?”

He was really talking to himself and moved without waiting for a reply, snatching a tissue from a box on the desk. While he dabbed at the cut, Danny took another look. It was maybe an inch in length at most, shallow, so quite possibly it was from a razor. To be fresh as it was, he didn't think he had to worry that maybe the murderous vigilante laid a finger on him.

His eyes performed a thorough examination, searching past the superficial appearance. Ward appeared tired, not wholly out of place for the executive of a billion dollar company likely under plenty of stress. He'd seen him like that a fair amount of the time in the past when he first tried to find his place again with the company and Meachums. Of course, secretly the young CEO had been dealing with hiding and serving a psychologically abusive father who engineered, intentionally or not, every big thing his son ever did. Which would be monumentally stressful by itself.

Danny zeroed in on a not insignificant bruise partially hidden by his hairline. “How'd that happen?”

Sighing, he felt the spot on his upper forehead lightly. “Wasn't paying attention, bumped my head getting into my car. It did _not_ feel good. So what? You were pointing a finger at me for something?”

Completely distracted from his original intention, he folded his arms across his chest. “Are you okay?”

Ward shrugged a shoulder before granting him a thin smile. “I haven't been getting enough sleep. We're in the process of a potentially big deal and it's a ton of work. The lack of sleep has led to me becoming quite the uncoordinated clod.”

“Can't you take a break?” he asked, troubled.

“Don't worry about it. This deal can't go on forever, right?”

He relaxed a little, sensing the honesty in that last comment. He was no stranger to having things occupy the mind to the point of disregarding the body. But then, he did try his utmost to care for himself as a living weapon. Confident enough to resume the reason for their visit, he unfolded his arms and met his eyes.

“Well good, then listen. What were you thinking going to a guy like that? Why would you even do it?”

The man's gaze glossed over at a point past Danny's shoulder. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Lie. How dare he lie.

“I told you what happened with the other protectors of New York.” His voice began to rise. “You know I know Daredevil.”

Colleen put her hand on his arm and shot her eyes to the door, tense. After a moment, she released the tension in her shoulders but gave him a look.

“Let's be quieter when announcing things like that, got it?”

“Right. Okay,” he acknowledged and then resumed letting his irritation show, but quieter. “I want you to explain it to me, Ward. Why would you go to a dangerous murderer like the Punisher? You were trying to hire him as a hit man. Who do you want dead? Why would you try to kill someone after all that happened with Harold? Actually, it sounds like something Harold would do.”

Instead of taking him seriously, Ward rolled his eyes. “Actually? Dad did always prefer a hands on approach.”

“We know how you feel about your late father, Mr. Meachum,” she paused into the beginning of her argument, feeling distaste in her mouth judging by the look on her face. “Hope it's cool if I just call you Ward.”

“It's fine...” he hesitantly told her.

And she was directly back with what she wanted to say. “Let's be blunt. Your father was a mega-douchebag. He got what was coming to him and the world is better with him gone.”

Danny stared at her wide-eyed. “Colleen!”

She paid him no mind. “So why are you acting like him? You seem shady like he was and it makes me wonder if you picked back up on doing some less than legal activities with this business.”

Ward had stiffened in his seat while listening to her suspicions. His face was now set in a permanent unhappy expression. That didn't bode well for trying to get through to him. He placed his hands flat on the desk, waiting for her to finish in grim fashion.

“A guy like Frank Castle isn't anybody's hit man. He'd rather kill someone who would murder so don't be reckless like that. What are you involved in that you need somebody to die?”

Satisfied she was done, Ward uttered, “Do you know how crazy this sounds?”

Neither of them expecting such a response, they glanced at each other before looking simultaneously back at him. The look on his face was still heavy, the tight smile coming on his face most likely one of an incredulous and impatient nature. They should have given some actual thought to how they were going to confront him before doing the confronting.

His hands slid off the desk, one of them going into the pocket of his suit. “You are absolutely insane if you think anyone would believe such a ludicrous accusation.”

“Believe?” he questioned, hurt and confused. “Ward, we're not threatening you. Is that what you think?”

Danny watched him take his phone out of his inner pocket to scowl at the screen. He dumped it into one of the desk drawers angrily. His hands gripped the edge of the desk and his glare fixated upon them.

“With all due respect, Danny, you aren't exactly the best judge of character.” Ward apprised. “You were only too happy to have Harold fill the void your own father left when he died, completely ignoring my warning about him to you.”

He immediately opened his mouth to demand answers to his concerns but Colleen interrupted with her own inquiry.

“Wait, he warned you before that guy turned on us and nearly killed us?”

Ward was content to give further details. “He'll use you, hurt you, and throw you aside. Isn't that what I said?”

Colleen stared at Danny, absolutely dismayed. “That's exactly what he did.”

This was getting out of hand. They weren't here to talk about Harold and the past. They were supposed to be figuring on what purpose Ward would have to go and try to have someone killed.

“We're not talking about that now. He's only diverting our attention away from why we came here,” he explained in a calm voice.

He knew he was going to hear about it a lot more later by the dissatisfied look she had for him, but thankfully, sense reached her and she pushed herself deeper into the chair.

“Fine.” Her attention moved to Ward. “If you need help, you know we can help, right? That's kind of what we do. Is there anything you should be telling us?”

Instead of admitting anything or saying anything decent, he went with mean. He did not miss the mean side of Ward when they were growing up together. At present, he was threatening him.

“You need to watch yourself, Danny.”

He stood up from his seat to glare down at the other. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know what that means,” he answered simply.

Frustration peaking in a short span of time, his hands tightened to fists. “What you need to do is stop being a spiteful and self-important rich kid for five minutes. You need to stop doing anything illegal if that's what you're doing, and you need to come clean.”

It was Ward's turn to stand. Hands still planted flat on his desk, he raised one and pounded it against the desk before letting it lay spread again.

“Keep telling me what to do...” he growled.

“I protect this city and if I have to protect it from you then I will!” Danny yelled at him.

Not unexpectedly, the older man wasn't having any of that. “What you need to do is get out of this office.”

“Wait! Why?” Colleen inquired, admirably attempting to salvage this catastrophe of a talk. “We can discuss this without losing control here, can't we?”

“I don't think that's possible when Danny doesn't even understand why he's here.” Ward concluded. “And I have real business in the real world to deal with, that's why.”

Upset this had gone so horribly wrong, he poked a finger in the air at him. “I swear, you're acting a lot like when you were fifteen. Stubborn and cruel and full of contempt for me!”

Ward sneered right back. “Well you still act like you're fifteen or ten or whatever age as a kid..all the damn time!”

“Oh please, I am way more mature than you. K'un-Lun has made me wise and-”

“Don't even mention that little slice of heaven to me. Can't be that great if everybody keeps leaving it!”

“Oh, don't you-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Silence fell as the last of the shouting faded away. Only now did Danny begin to think about the words that came out of his mouth and how stupid they were. If his expression was any indication, Ward was feeling the same kind of sheepish. He let his eyes fall to his girlfriend, who was sitting in her seat looking like punching him in the face was the most attractive thing about him at present.

“I'm sorry, Colleen. I lost my temper.”

“Yeah, sure, apologize to _her_.”

A hostile look snapped to Ward but Danny softened it immediately when he saw just how tired the guy appeared. This yelling match hadn't done either one of them any good. Before he could think of anything appropriate to say, he was dismissed.

“Please, get out of here now.”

He attempted to meet his eyes but Ward was currently looking everywhere but directly at them. Colleen stood up and shook her head.

“Well, this went to shit. I just want to say-”

The door to the office opened and a man with red hair parted primarily to one side in a slick look, peeked in. The hairstyle reminded him a bit of how Harold wore his when he was of the living, causing a residual pang of hatred to leak into his mind. The man wore a dark blue suit with a deep red and blue tie. His appearance wasn't lesser than Ward's own by any means. Although the difference was he stood tall, with an air of knowing and liking how smooth and professional he appeared.

A fairly handsome, clean-shaven face broke into a broad smile when he saw Danny.

“I was wondering when I would finally have the honor of meeting Mr. Rand himself!” the man exclaimed, British accent clearly evident, then he teased, “I was beginning to think Ward was hiding you somewhere.”

Puzzled, he glanced sideways at Ward, who stood where he was not saying a word. Uncertain but understanding the custom, he stepped away from the chairs to make room as the man approached. He extended a hand as anticipated and Danny shook it briefly.

“My name is Marcus Patterson. I'm still fairly new here, but I've taken over as legal consultant with an advisory position to the CEO.”

Danny thought about that for a moment, frowning. “Isn't that Joy's job?”

“My sister has been gone for more than a year with no signs of returning anytime soon.” Ward explained, removing himself from behind the desk to stand closer to the door as he did. “The company couldn't wait any longer to fill a necessary position.”

“Business stops for no one,” the replacement remarked with a chuckle at his own cleverness.

Danny laughed a little to be polite and Colleen stared, clearly bothered by the interruption.

“We're not done here.”

“I'm afraid you'll have to be,” Mr. Patterson said apologetically. “I have a vital meeting with Ward regarding the future and it really can't wait.”

He and Colleen exchanged glances, both uncertain if they should protest or just go with things and try again later. Danny turned to see if Ward would say anything but it was Marcus Patterson who resumed speaking.

“I was trying to find you earlier, Ward. Did you get my messages?”

“No I didn't,” he replied, appearing bored. “I must have misplaced my phone. Can't find the damn thing.”

Danny squinted at him in confusion. Why was he lying?

“We were finished anyway,” continued Ward, “I trust you can find your own way out?”

“Ward, I still want-” he began but was cut off before he could so much express the idea of resuming the discussion at a different point in the near future.

“No, we're done, Danny.” Ward stated abruptly.

There was the old, familiar dismissive and arrogant Ward he saw most. What was his problem? He probably lied to his co-worker just because he could, just ignored him on the phone to be rude. Rude like he was being now. Asshole.

“Whatever you say, Ward.” He glanced at Colleen. “Let's go.”

Together they left the office and he refused to look back. He did catch Colleen peering backward a few times though. When they were in the elevator, he let his hand tap the side of hers. She slipped her hand into his and sighed heavily, pressing the button for the lobby.

“What's bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” she replied, forehead crinkling in thought. “It's just, I thought the reason he was scary and mean was because his father hounded him, made him that way. You know, like how the Hand completely blinded me from their true purpose and intentions because they gave me what I needed, stability and a family. Ward never seemed truly bad to me... He made bad choices with misguided logic, but it came from a place of fear, from his father. I just can't believe he's actually like that himself.”

Danny frowned hard at the elevator doors. “The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is now.”

He felt her eyes on him, studying his features and no doubt wondering what he meant.

As if on cue, she asked, “What are you getting at?”

“If Harold had more of an impact on his son than we realized, it is our time now, to see if we can alter his path so he may yet become a good man.”

Curiously she wondered aloud, “So you don't think he's a good man now?”

“I thought he was,” he admitted right away, before adding a second, less positive truth. “But I've been wrong before.”

“Maybe you're not wrong.”

The doors opened with a musical note and he stared straight ahead, already deep in thought. “Maybe.”


	7. Chapter 6: Numb Your Pain

_“Trying to fulfill some prophecy. All to numb your pain.”_   
_-Madame Gao_

_TUESDAY, LATE AFTERNOON_

“How could I let us fall apart? It took us forever to understand each other and finally find common ground. How could he ruin his future after getting an opportunity to forge his own path? We're like strangers again.”

Officially breaking himself out of his reverie by speaking out loud, he opened his eyes.

Getting that the meditation was apparently done, Colleen hummed her discontentment at the disruption. Reluctant, her own eyes opened to meet his stubborn stare.

“Stop feeling like everything needs to be perfect,” she told him. “We have a pretty good life right now. Nobody's in danger, we don't have some grand battle to rush off to, and we can just take it easy.”

They paused a moment.

“Wait, do you think that means something bad is coming?” she risked saying what they were wondering.

Silent staring before Danny couldn't help but laugh at the sudden paranoia. “Nah, I think we're safe.”

“Knock, knock.”

Both their heads jerked up to stare at the door in surprise. Luke Cage stood filling the doorway with his broad shoulders, beaming at them. He glanced over his shoulder at the hallway behind him when they continued to stare at him in astonishment.

“What?” he finally asked. “Expecting somebody else?”

Danny took mind of his stance and expression, relaxing. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Hey, when did people stop saying hello?”

“I said hey,” he pointed out, face crinkling in confusion. “It's a form of hello.”

He laughed. “You are way too literal sometimes, man.”

“Huh?”

Colleen broke in. “So what's up?”

Luke strolled into the room, closing the door behind him. “So there are these pricks who've been messing with my people. At first I'm thinking your run of the mill white supremacist assholes.”

Curiosity piqued, Colleen asked, “Something change your mind?”

“They're not your typical racist scumbag. I think this gang was targeting people in my area, specifically to draw me out. The random was just how they wanted it to appear. They're organized. Could turn into a real threat.”

“Think it's some kind of cult?”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. What I do know, is they're pissing me off.”

“We should go take a look,” suggested Colleen. “Do you have an idea where they can be found?”

“I shouldn't have to be the voice of reason here,” Danny mentioned uncertainly. “But we don't know anything about these guys. We can't go running after an enemy we know nothing about.”

“Ah, yeah. I know a little something about something,” he cleared up. “From what I got out of one of them and by a dog tattoo on the arm I noticed on several, they call themselves 'Cerberus'.”

“So, gang? Cult? Both?”

“What kind though?” Danny questioned. “Fanatics can be extremely dangerous. Like the Hand.”

Luke agreed. “That's what I want to figure out. Who they are and what they want in my city. Messing with my people is the biggest mistake they ever made. They just don't know it yet.”

“Got anything else to go on?” Colleen inquired, digging. She was definitely interested.

Ever since her very existence was tossed into the air, forcing her to reevaluate what she stood for, she was unstable. She preferred to run around beating guys up and righting wrongs instead of remaining in the dojo. When he assumed the Daredevil mantle for a time, it gave her the perfect opportunity for an assist and outlet.

He knew she wanted a place to belong and feel at home, but to him it seemed like she was doing everything she could to run away from that possible safety. Danny played along like he always did to stand by his woman. This wasn't the time for him to voice his doubts on her happiness.

“Knight nearly ran into a couple of these guys. She says they were hanging around outside an old parking garage that's been closed for months due to repairs.”

“What do you say, Danny? Wanna go take a look?”

He glanced toward the windows at the darkening sky. “Okay. But we wait until it's dark and we're just looking. Engage only if necessary.”

She grinned. “Alright. Let's do this.”

/

_TUESDAY, EVENING_

“No. Shut up. Bye, Malcolm.”

She hung up the phone. Jessica Jones was not a happy camper. Everyone around her always made it very difficult to be apathetic. And it cut into her drinking time far too much. How was she supposed to function like this?

“Five seconds to convince me I don't walk away right now.”

He proceeded to babble and stumble through the next five seconds without getting a single clear thing across.

“Guy. Breathe. Speak.”

“So they're making my brother run drugs. I need your help. He's just a kid, still in high school. He can't be doing that. Please.”

She sighed. “Where might I find them?”

He started searching the room like someone might be hiding there. She was not known for patience. Snapping her fingers, she sought for him to cease having a freak out on her time.

“Freddy, focus.”

“Yes,” he confessed. “I know where they make the exchanges. I don't know the address off the top of my head but I know the street corner.”

“Yeah. Okay. You're gonna take me there.”

Panic spread across his face. “No way! I'm not going there. It's way too dangerous!”

“Oh, nice. But it's cool if I go?”

“But-well-you're, I mean, people say you're like, really strong.. Right?”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a flat look. “Something like that.”

Grabbing him by the jacket sleeve, she began guiding them through the door of her office. The whole way he was going on about how he didn't need to go with her and she should be able to find it on her own if she just went the path he told her. She wasn't interested.

“You take me there, I kick some ass, and I get paid.”

“I don't have much money...”

“Story of my life.”

Jessica led the way out of the apartment building, scanning the immediate area as soon as they were outside. Never could be too careful about somebody following this sorry sack. A restaurant's night sign flickered to life amidst the growing darkness. She was so not in the mood to deal with Mexican drug traffickers.

Then again, throwing a few pieces of garbage around often put a smile on her face.

They headed down the block, Freddy partly leading the way, clearly wracked with nerves. Jessica's focus flitted in every direction, seeking out dark spots and potential tails. She was being extra cautious since she had no idea if this was an outfit of small-timers or something on the side of experienced.

After they'd been going at least twenty minutes with herself hyper-vigilant and her client the opposite of relaxed, she decided to try and distract him from their destination.

“So what's your brother into? He play sports? Like books or something?”

Caught off guard by her questions, he stumbled a bit over his own feet. Correcting his posture, he continued leading the way and glanced back at her.

“He likes science. He's really good at it. Honors classes and all that. He's only sixteen and he can't quit talking about going to a university one day. He's gonna be somebody.”

She nodded a tad absentmindedly, momentarily believing she'd picked up a tracker only to disregard it as false.

“That's good. You're going to help him study, yeah?”

Freddy smiled. It stretched across his face like it was an uncomfortable fit. It was odd. She began to focus her searching gaze on him.

“He could probably teach me.”

“Is that right?” she asked, then went with her gut and stopped walking.

Teetering to a halt, he turned part way around to look at her, then his eyes swept desperately on ahead. It would be easy to consider he was simply worried about his brother and wanting to get there as quick as possible. Except he'd been extremely reluctant to come along in the first place, and the sweat on his brow resembled nervousness of a guilty kind. She'd seen it plenty of times in her line of work that she normally could tell the difference.

“You chose this street for a reason, didn't you?” she put together, then sped up her speech, trying to get what information she could while there was a chance. “Was this the drug gang? Whose in charge? Give me a name.”

“Gomez is his man who handles the schedule, the day to day,” a different voice informed her, sounding cultured, British, and nearby. “But Manden is running things.”

A guy in a full suit and neat blonde hair stepped into her field of vision from the shadows of a storefront. He lowered the newspaper in his hands and tossed it in the trash bin beside him.

“You'll have to take care of both if you want to shut them down,” he explained. “I'm afraid I can't have you interfering, however, as I make quite a lot of profit from this business.”

“What do you have to do with a Mexican drug lord? You sound English.”

“Astute observation, my dear,” he replied, patronizingly.

“Who are you, jackass?”

“My name is Luther James, Interpol.”

She was surprised he told her and observing the expression on her face, he responded to it.

“My record is squeaky clean. If you have illusions of reporting me, good luck with anyone believing you.”

Jessica glared at him. “You have any idea who I am?”

“Of course I do, Ms. Jones. I do my research and I know my business.”

Disgruntled, she looked Freddy's way. He was virtually quaking in his shoes.

“I'm sorry, Ms. Jones. They made me do it. My little brother isn't running drugs for them,” he described regretfully. “But they did threaten him. I'm sorry. I was told to send you this way.”

“I'm the one who makes things happen when they really ought not to work, you see.” Luther James explained to her. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have money to make. Do mind your step.”

What did that mean?

She aimed to shout after him and follow, taking a couple steps forward to give him a piece of her mind. His faux politeness ticked her off. Even more obnoxiously, it probably wasn't faux, and _that_ ticked her off even further.

But then her perception gave way. Vision was reduced to blinding light and sound. Her sole train of thought prioritized on shoving her fake client out of the way as the ground exploded in front of them. She smashed into concrete as the black truck next to them bounced into the air, smoke and flame spreading outward as a continuing chain of explosions proved deafening.

The dark sedan near the truck just behind them blew, front end exploding and ripping it upward. She realized the car was tilting on its axis as yet another explosion went off, pitching it forward directly to the spot where they were lying flat.

“Aw, man. Mother-fu-”

/

“What is that accent? Scottish?” Colleen pondered. “I was expecting some southern folk or Hitler-esque maybe...”

Danny peered over the side of the second floor ramp. Below, a couple dozen men in street clothes wielding guns slung on their shoulders moved back and forth. They were occupied transferring heavy looking crates from a side of the room into black delivery trucks. An older man in maybe his 50's or so was barking orders every now and then, hurrying them along.

“Sounds like they're expecting somebody else.” Luke mentioned. “Could be the pale, German sounding thugs I've been encountering.”

“Cerberus?” Danny prompted, seeking confirmation.

He got a shrug. “Yeah, I think so.”

He quieted, shushing his friends. There were vehicles approaching. Three dark SUVs drove into the bottom floor of the parking garage, passing by the men at work and pulling up to park beneath the spot the three of them were spying. Together they hurried across the space to peer down from the other side in order to see the new arrivals.

Men outfitted in tactical gear with helmets and masks resembling SWAT teams he'd witnessed were getting out of the cars. Their uniforms were of a dark gray shade of color, faces concealed completely by scarves on the lower half and black eye pieces for the upper half. One of them shouted a loud command in German, and the drivers returned to their spots behind the wheels of their respective vehicles. What was this now...?

“This is definitely something,” he commented, in awe of the clear organization and preparation of these people.

One of the helmeted and masked men walked ahead of the others beneath them and once again they had to move to the opposite side of their lookout spot in order to have a clear view. He approached the man with the Scottish accent who appeared to be in charge.

“Immer wahrend!” the concealed man exclaimed as a way of greeting.

He glanced at the other two. “Anyone speak German?”

They shook their heads. Together, they returned their attentions to the events unfolding below.

Another gray outfitted man went to one of the crates and removed the top with the aid of a crowbar supplied by a street clothed criminal. Danny leaned farther over the side to see what was in the crate. The lights were bright down there and it soon became visible.

Pulling back, he looked at Colleen and Luke. “Weapons.”

“Are they smuggling them into the city, or out?” Colleen asked.

He began to answer what he thought when he noticed an armed man in street clothes lumber to a noisy halt, gaping at them. For the briefest of moments they stared at one another in silent uncertainty. Then he spun on his heel and went running back the way he'd come, shouting warning to the people below.

“Dominic! Iron Fist! It's the Iron Fist!”

Colleen sighed and straightened up, backing away from the side of the ramp. “Well I guess they know who you are.”

“What about me?” demanded Luke, sounding offended.

She found that amusing as she smirked up at him. “Maybe they didn't see you.”

Danny would have laughed but he was busy examining the scattering of enemies below them. There was usually a pattern. As of now he could see only chaos. The street clothed ones were panicking. As for the gray military outfitted types, they were unmoving. They didn't adjust their positions in the slightest, continuing to stand calmly precisely where they'd put themselves. That was strange.

“Everybody bloody calm down!” the Scottish accented man shouted impatiently.

He took in his men beginning to gather themselves into some semblance of organized, and then tilted his head upward to the three of them. Danny frowned in his direction, waiting for what he would do. In the moment when he thought he might speak, someone else did instead.

“Danny Rand. Mind telling me how you found us?”

The voice reached his ears garbled, due to the mask adorning his face. He didn't remove it to speak clearer, which caused him to suspect he didn't want to be identified. Most of these criminals didn't care, feeling themselves above the justice system and laws of humanity. This man showing caution caught his eye.

He wasn't planning to give up how they managed to locate this place. Luke was apparently yet feeling sore from the earlier snub of not being included in the warning shout to the lookout's criminal buddies. The man was quick to reveal who it was that figured them out.

“I found ya all, fools! Plenty of your racist friends were plenty sloppy. This is my turf and you're gonna regret dealing that illegal shit around here!”

“Is that so?” the concealed one inquired.

Luke grinned at him. “That's so. And I'm about to be bringing some serious hurt down on all your heads!”

Danny leaned closer to ask him his thoughts. “Uh, Luke? Mind bringing us in on the plan?”

His eyebrows raised and he partway turned to look at him. “You got the plan, don't you?”

He sighed, biting on his bottom lip. “Of course. Okay...”

“Calburn,” the mystery fellow said to the Scottish man running the plain-clothed group of lackeys. “Continue processing the shipment. We'll take care of this nuisance.”

“I am the Iron Fist!” Danny declared. “You cannot defeat me.”

“They say that one's kind of dim!” Calburn shouted his advice to the masked and geared up soldiers removing metal batons from their belts. “Kill the big guy first.”

Luke nodded his head at them in challenge, ready to take them on. “You know they gonna try, gonna fail.”

Danny squinted at him before turning to Colleen. “Why do so many people seem to think I'm unintelligent?”

She was fighting a smile. He began to frown, not at all amused.

“Come on, genius,” she rallied, “Let's go beat up some idiots.”

The masked leader gave a final command. “Kill all but the Iron Fist. He has something we need.”

Something...?

“Danny, come on!” Colleen yelled urgently.

There were a half dozen of the gray clothed military types rushing toward them in two separate directions. He was curious how they'd managed to be where they could approach from above, but didn't have time to spare it much consideration. Instead, he closed his eyes calmly before opening them again. These men would know defeat tonight.

The opposing forces collided into one another and it rapidly became clear the enemy was efficiently trained. They were seemingly planning to beat them to death as their attack commenced with metal batons in hand. Maybe they were avoiding gunfire to avoid drawing further attention to the structure.

He spun to face the opposite direction after knocking one of the assailants back, ducking below the swinging arm of another. Danny gripped the extended arm and pushed it upward to expose vulnerability, taking advantage with a well placed hit. Beside him, Colleen was holding her own, sword drawn and sweeping through the air.

She was a force of nature. He marveled appreciatively for a half second more and then devoted his focus to the battle. The number of combatants had increased despite the ones already taken out and a glance over the side of the railing told him they had to stop the people below as priority. These guys seemed pretty confident they could go about their task regardless of the presence of New York's dedicated superheroes. They would be wrong.

“Colleen! We have to get down there!”

Sidestepping an attacker and jabbing him in the back with the end of her sword, she took a moment to nod understanding in his direction. Luke had overheard too and he lifted a guy trying to smash him in the face with his baton and swung him about, tossing his flailing body into a few allies. Then he was waving them off.

“Get there. I'll keep these dudes busy.”

They dodged another who tried to prevent them from moving past him and Colleen rammed into a second with her shoulder, knocking him on his rear. Running side by side, they hurried to the ground floor, taking on attackers sporadically. A surprised shout of pain brought them to a stop, twisting back the way they'd come.

Luke was clutching his arm, blood trailing across it in a slow but steady stream. That guy didn't bleed unless he took some serious damage. Danny scanned the enemies near his friend and saw the men had removed a casing from the batons he hadn't known existed. Beneath was a blade approximately the length of a thin, short sword. By looks, it was possibly a third the size of a katana. And somehow, whatever material that had been used to forge the weapons could penetrate Luke's nigh impregnable skin.


	8. Chapter 7: Second Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed the Sunday deadline! I was in Tokyo all weekend, finally letting myself just relax and enjoy life beyond my small town. I do have two chapters though, so here you go.

**_“He's always been a bastard to me, ever since coming back from the dead. It's like..a piece of his soul got left in the grave. He will use you, hurt you, and throw you aside without a second thought.”_ **   
**_-Ward Meachum_ **

_TUESDAY, NIGHT-FOUR WEEKS SINCE **TUESDAY**_

“Documents to review and sign, Mr. Meachum.”

Tiredly he looked up from tedious papers. He'd been trying to rest his head on the desk to get a little extra sleep than what was allowed. Unfortunately, they had cameras in the office and he'd received a politely threatening text warning him to keep awake. If he wouldn't let Heart into his company like Harold had let the Hand once, they were set on controlling everything else in his life. Guess they expected him to cave from the loss of freedom and enforced intimidation.

More probable, it was the time he spent at home, a specific duration scheduled by them, which was anticipated to break him. Harold was as big of a monster as ever, knowing he would never be able to take control of the company one day. That opportunity was lost to him thanks to his own son and Danny Rand. He had to stay dead to the public after this return from the grave. And he liked to remind Ward of the fact constantly, bitterly, showcasing his utter disappointment at his child turning on him.

He became resistant to infuriating and intolerable circumstances growing up as the male heir to a billionaire during the time the man hadn't stayed dead. But when his father increasingly plotted to overtake the Hand's hold on him, never mind the consequences to anyone else, that was when Ward began to unravel. He was expected to make decisions he'd never been responsible for, mindset manipulatively set on what would Harold do. It came from years of getting it hammered into him, literally and figuratively.

His decisions and the things which might have resulted bothered his conscience to this very minute. Whenever he reflected on that period of time after Danny Rand waltzed through the exact doors he was staring at now, it made him sick.

The kind of man his father almost turned him into was a thing he would eternally regret. And there was plenty of opportunity for continuously dwelling on the same old regrets and self-pity. After all, Hell was repetition, was it not?

Accepting the papers from his assistant, he glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven.

“You should go home for the day, Megan. You don't have to stay this late.”

Why should they both suffer?

“It's okay. We had a lot of work to get done today.”

He could really appreciate someone dedicated to their job. The key to his organization and planning enjoyed what she did and it was admirable to see in a person. This company had the potential to be more than every other wealthy corporation out there seeking primarily profit above all else. He missed having genuine hope in a new day.

“Right. Well it's been enough for one day,” he told her. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Mr. Meachum,” she said with a pleased smile. “Have a nice night.”

He fought to control the immediate scowl that came upon his face. It was an innocent phrase which took on a new meaning to him now that night meant returning to his home where Harold would come visit. Ward refused to let it show, but it _was_ weakening his resolve to face daily abuse from his dad. It had never been every day before. Every single day...

Remembering his secretary, hesitating uncertainly in his doorway to hear an assumed response, he pushed aside the thoughts of when he would leave here.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. When they once again would regulate his sleep, his food intake, his exercise. They wanted him suitably healthy, but off-center and slightly weakened courtesy of his blood relative. It was easier to control someone that way.

The urge and addictive feelings had begun to reemerge before the first week of Harold's arrival was finished. They refused him his former prescription stress pills, citing it was a weakness he'd overcome and he would not be allowed to backtrack. Personally, Ward suspected they preferred how it kept him from keeping it together when he risked falling apart. These people were always cautious, always watching, always waiting.

Kuo or whoever surveyed the office surveillance probably enjoyed watching him scream into his hands when the agony of his existence reached an all time high. They probably liked when he sat at his desk and tried not to cry, never quite succeeding. His own dad watched him become addicted to pills in the past and did nothing, preferring him weaker and easier to manipulate, while simultaneously expressing disappoint at his weaknesses. Fucking delusional people.

Megan waved goodbye and left the room, bumping into someone on her way out.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Patterson.”

Ward went still, eyes staring into the surface of his desk as if sheer determination would dig a hole for him to escape. The Hand, Heart, whatever..had this trapping people thing down pat. Kuo seemed to be one with expansive experience. He spoke like a person who had been around a long time, so telling how old he actually was remained a guessing game.

“Leaving for the night, Megan?”

“Yes, sir.” She paused audibly with a short breath, causing Ward to look up. “Unless you needed anything else?”

“Not at all. Have a good night.”

She relaxed again. “Good night.”

Even Megan seemed to sense something off about their newest employee, persistently walking on eggshells while in his presence. She would be accurate. He was not a real businessman, nor was he a kind man.

Ward straightened in the chair as Marcus stepped into his office and shut the door. He opted for his usual attitude knowing it wouldn't matter how he spoke. Earlier, after Danny and Colleen left, he'd been cornered in the room and an attempt to interrogate him proceeded. He was fortunate in that a mere few minutes later, he received a business call on his cell phone and successfully retreated to his own office.

The discontented look on the man's face when he pulled his phone out of a desk drawer in that very room, betraying his claim to have misplaced said item, said volumes about how he would be dealt with later. But Ward enjoyed his temporary victory of safety. The rest of the day went along relatively smooth also, save for how tired he was feeling under the stress of living in an imposed prison.

“Good evening, Ward. Let's have our chat.”

It would keep him away from home longer. He was fairly confident he would prefer any pain that wasn't from his dad. Although his training might get skipped if he was too late, and he'd determined to soak up as much information of self-protection he could manage through the duration of the last two weeks.

“Nothing better to do with your time, Marcus?”

The surname was bullshit, but according to him, his given name was real.

“This is my better,” he replied with a dark smile.

He took a seat across from him and tugged at his tie until it hung loose about his neck. “So constricting. How do you wear this thing every day?”

His response came automatic and disinterested. “By understanding appearances are essential for meaningful representation to involved parties.”

“Your daddy teach you that?”

His expression soured. “I don't want to talk about Harold.”

He was relieved by the response. “Neither do I.”

The relief lasted the briefest of a moment, as the slight pause in his voice followed with him adding, “And it's working.”

Not able to discern what he meant by “it's working”, he scowled and regrettably asked just that.

“What's working?”

Instead of verbal answering, the man's eyes raked up and down his body until he visibly squirmed. This wasn't the first or second time he'd given him such an invasive eye examination. Then his gaze switched to polite face level and a severe stare locked into place.

“Why was Danny Rand here?”

“As I said before,” Ward lied. “He just dropped in to say hi. You know how he is, doing whatever he thinks is a good idea without thinking it through.”

“Did you remind him the office is a place of work and certain behavior and guests are inappropriate?”

“Yes. I took care of it.”

Marcus shifted to seat himself more comfortably in the chair. “Didn't let anything slip out that might ought not to have, hm?”

He stared at the man, feigning offense at the implication. “No, of course not. I know how to work a client and I know how to get rid of Danny.”

“I'm sure you do on the former,” he remarked suggestively, lifting an eyebrow as he examined the extent of Ward's figure. “The latter part is where I very much doubt you.”

The unwelcome gaze transferred into a sober look. “Even when you actually tried to send your father's security and other hires to do the dirty work, your heart was never in it. To you, it was just protecting your family. He was some insane man who would do harm. That's what you believed when you did what you did.”

He sighed, already bored. “Is there a point to this?”

“But Danny Rand turned out to be who he claimed to be. Danny Rand turned out to be a bit dangerous, as you suspected, but a man with the best of intentions. He saved you from Daddy after all.”

Fed up his father was being brought into the discussion, he crabbily snapped, “I saved _him_ from getting a bullet. Let's not give him _all_ the savior credit.”

He knew it was silly and immature as soon as the words left his mouth. Ward didn't really give a shit over who saved who. Truth be told, they'd helped save each other that night, whether they'd meant to or not.

“Ah, that's right.” Marcus considered in a manner conveying he very much knew what he was pretending to contemplate. “You saved that nuisance. One might say, you could be suspected of caring for him.”

“Uh, what?” he uttered, deadpan.

“Did you tell him anything, anything at all?”

Ward tossed his hands up and leaned back in his chair. “No.”

“Did you imagine we didn't notice your vanishing act a few days ago?” he inquired, causing him to startle, but he quickly covered it with a confused look. “Where did you go? What did you do? These are the answers Kuo wants.”

“It was nothing. I wanted a moment to myself. That's it.”

Marcus regarded him with scrutiny. Displeasure came over his expression and he made sure Ward was giving his full attention before speaking.

“How many avenues have you contemplated thus far to be rid of us? You're far from an idiot, Mr. Meachum, and we are aware how you despise our presence. We've taken your life; it makes sense.”

Ward shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess,” the man noted, amusement playing across his features, and then something appeared to occur to him. “Do you recall the time your Daddy got upset with you for saying those two words? He hit you that night.”

It didn't take too long for him to imagine the night in question. Ward could remember every single day his father ever assaulted him physically. He remembered a lot of the emotional ones too, but those were countless they'd been so frequent, while the physical ones just had a knack for becoming prominent in a victim's mind. Yes, because as hateful as the idea was to him, that was what he was to the world if anybody found out.

He was mystified how Marcus could know about the singular event. It didn't last as he recalled Kuo mentioning his dad keeping videos of his innumerable abuses. The man went on to boast of the very thing.

“If it's reassuring, I only saw the one. Someone was watching the videos to make a written account of everything contained on them. There's an entire box filled with DVD cases of 'home movies'. Such an untamed, perverse desire in that man. Twisted.”

A whole box...? Ward felt the bile rise in his throat and clamped his hand over it, bending toward his waste bin. He wretched but there was nothing in his stomach to release. Getting a grip on his breath, he turned away from the bin when he accepted he wasn't going to be sick, literally anyway.

Marcus sat upright in the chair, monitoring him outwardly. “You skipped lunch today?”

“I had a lot of work to do. Company keeps running, even if you assholes are perpetually insisting on trying to worm your way in.”

“You will sit and eat your dinner in front of Alex tonight.”

Ward slouched. “Right. Sure.”

Alex. The ninja who disarmed him when he had his opportunity to make Kuo and Harold get out of his home. Might have gotten them away... As much a pipe dream as he knew it to be.

He had a special hatred for him because of that blame. Usually he spent his duty to Heart by loitering around the areas outside Ward's house, ascertaining he remained home. He wouldn't be surprised if they also wanted a person to be near should he attempt to rage kill his tormentor. Ward couldn't say they were wrong about the possibility. He couldn't take much more of him.

“Rethink your answer.”

He drew himself up from his slouch, rolling his eyes as he did. “Letting me eat meals... You guys are saints.”

His attempt at humor was ignored. “Heart will see you obey, of that we have no doubt. It's a matter of time, nothing more, nothing less. You join us, and you'll be on the winning side.”

“Winning side of what?” he asked, irritated. “I mean, come on. Two years ago you people were calling your group Hand and got yourselves wiped out by a handful of do-gooders.”

“One year, seven months, and I was never part of the Hand. Kuo recruited me separate from the shadow organization. Approved of my potential.” Marcus laughed a little. “I'm digressing. So, where did you go? What did you do there?”

“I told you.”

“No, Ward, you told me a terrible lie,” he described. “The new world is coming, faster than we could have hoped for. Outside forces have sped up our aim considerably. You need to expand your view of existence.”

“Pass,” he muttered.

He'd known the threat was coming, but he was startled to find a gun pointing in his face. Incredulous, he looked from the weapon to the man holding it. His eyes scanned the room for all the potential camera spots. It didn't go unobserved.

“What if I told you we've given up on you? Kuo gave the command for execution. Tonight.”

None of that made sense and he was beyond puzzled and uncertain. Marcus stood up and jammed the gun into the side of his head. His hands automatically raised as if to ward off the threat.

“Final words?”

“Nnno,” he stumbled on the word, fear building on the thought there was a chance this was truth. “You can't kill me. You're lying.”

“No final words? Nobody to love? Shame. It's awfully depressing.”

He pulled the trigger which caused Ward to cower, nearly folding onto the floor. If a bullet shot him in the head, he couldn't do any of that... He lost balance, distracted by his wayward train of thought, and slid to the floor.

Marcus was putting the unloaded firearm away, smirking.

Ward breathed in and then out before demanding, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Aw, don't worry. I wouldn't shoot you.”

“To what do I owe that tremendous honor?” he spat.

The loyal member of Heart grinned. “Because I like you so much.”

He scoffed, attempting to brush off his fading fear and growing annoyance. “Sounds like a crush.”

His tone was entirely sarcasm and he was left reeling when the man hauled him up from the floor, after telling him something most unexpected.

“Doesn't it? You're handsome and a good man, both traits I admire. Adjusting your mindset on the path to a better world, that is a mission worth pursuing on my end.”

Ward had no idea what to do with that. He stood stiffly, suit jacket clutched tight in Marcus's hands. The hands dragged him the few inches to his desktop where he released him, back of his thighs automatically bending to sit on the surface. It was the only way to keep what minor distance he could manage between them.

He leaned close, pushing his body against him. Fingers went to his tie, loosening it, and then undoing a few buttons on his shirt. Ward's one relief was that his legs remained firmly together.

The fingers left his clothing alone and when his hand came up to push him away, his wrist was confiscated. While trying to get him to let it go, the other hand began stroking through his hair. He shoved at the man's chest, hard, and his response was to use his body to knock the arm out of the way, pressing even closer than before. The hand in his hair roved down to the center of his back as he leaned in to whisper by the side of his face.

“Aw, don't worry, Ward,” he murmured in his ear, hair brushing against his cheek. “Unlike Daddy, I would never force someone.”

His face slid up the side of his head and lips touched his forehead, almost affectionately. Next he pulled away completely, putting at least a foot between them. He took a moment to examine him, afterward speaking an excuse for his future action.

“I'm sorry I have to hurt you.”

Ward wasn't given much time to react as a blow landed on his stomach, prior bruising causing a higher pain level than usual. He was kept propped upright to take another couple of hits and then his arm was yanked. The pull spun him around and Marcus twisted the arm across his back, then up. Biting down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out, his eyes squeezed shut tight in silent torment.

“This is to clarify your position here, Mr. Meachum,” he explained pleasantly from behind. “Kuo would like a meeting with you tonight and he wishes for you to be in the right frame of mind for what he has to say.”

“He doesn't need a right mind, just smarts to say the words, 'I'm leaving and never coming back to New York.' That would do for me fine.” Ward snarked.

Marcus pressed the arm down on his back a little more, causing more pain, and then released. When he felt the man move away from him, putting a few yards between them, he straightened up and got off the desk. Turning to face him, he was all set to be a cocky asshole. His eyes fell on the metal case being removed from a pocket instead.

He was aware of what was in there. It wasn't good. It was really, really not good. He sought out the path to the exit. Even if he ran, there was nowhere safe to go, and that was forgetting one of them was waiting for him below.

“That's not necessary,” he tried. “I didn't do anything.”

“Which is the problem, Mr. Meachum. We require you to aid us but you refuse.”

“There are other drugs we could use to gain cooperation. Scopolamine for instance. A hallucinogenic chemical substance, capable of eliminating a person's free will. Creates zero inhibitions, inducing a zombie-like behavior so to speak. You would kill your mother in such a state and never blink an eye. Right, sorry, your mother's dead.”

A combination of fear and anger mixed with perplexity by his sincerity in the tacked on apology swept through him. He didn't know any single thing to feel at present. What he did know for certain was he didn't want anything injected into him. Especially not what was being removed from the case within eyesight.

“Or Versed,” he continued conversationally. “Excellent for interrogation. Causes complete pain and suffering in a person while simultaneously rendering them incapable of acting on their own behalf. Even better, the memory is purged when the drug wears off. We could get any information we wanted from you and you wouldn't even remember us hurting you or taking it from you.”

“Leave me alone!” he shouted, frightened by his talk, wanting this all to go away.

“Kuo doesn't much care for drugs, however, and he has it in his sight that you will change your own mind, tonight.”

“I'm not changing anything. The answer is still no.”

“Sticking to that, hm?” he noted, tone out of place in its cordial nature. “Let's get you through this, huh?”

He glanced desperately toward the exit and then at the man approaching slowly. “Why don't you tell Kuo you did it? And don't.”

Marcus chuckled softly in amusement, gesturing toward a camera in the corner of his office with the hand holding the syringe. “There are cameras. You know that.”

“But they can't hear us. You could pretend...” he trailed off his plea, recognizing it was falling on deaf ears.

Ward started walking backwards, angling for the doorway as though leaving would help him. He was tired of feeling helpless. He was tired of the pain.

“You'll get Anectine again because you allowed Danny Rand to meet with you in a room where there were no cameras. While abusing this type of muscle relaxant isn't my idea of a kindness. Kuo says it is because it will save you from physical scars.”

“Yeah just mental ones. So great.”

“I know.” Marcus agreed amicably. “Putting you in a hell where you feel like you're perpetually drowning, feel like you're dying.. Well it's hardly a mercy. Ah well, orders are orders.”

Ward grabbed the arm when it descended toward him for injection and threw the other one to punch him in the face. These people of Kuo's had ridiculous training and he found his defense easily thwarted. His own panic was making him forget the small training he'd learned as well. Somehow he was kicked in the back of the knee and it buckled. As he fought to keep from dropping, Marcus tugged his arm free of the weakened grip and a needle pierced his neck.

Reality fell away and hell was surrounding, all encompassing, all consuming. Raw screaming ripped from his throat, but you couldn't scream when you were drowning.

/

The first time he became aware he was no longer suffering or trapped in his drug-induced hellscape, he found himself lying across the seat of a car. He blinked a couple times, taking in the back of car seats and his driver's head behind the wheel. The vehicle was moving and for the first time he realized his head was lying on someone's lap.

Gripping the lap and edge of the seat, he raised his body to remove himself from the other. The vertigo nearly made him black out but he managed to keep it together, fighting the allure of unfeeling. Ward didn't notice hands helping him to sit back in the car seat properly until they were finished maneuvering him.

“We're getting you home safely, Ward,” the false reassurance came. “No need to worry about a thing.”

Home was the last place he wanted to be. “Where,” he corrected himself. “What time is it? You can't do this to me. Stop the car.”

Marcus shifted in his direction, causing him to flinch, but nothing happened. Just a look. Silence followed. He was the one to turn away to stare at the floor in discomfort.

“Good boy.”

His fists tightened in anger. He was something to be manipulated by everyone around him. Duress could make somebody lose their mind. They couldn't blame him if he snapped and killed. If he only had the means and opportunity... He was a miserable human being. It was pathetic.

The car came to a stop but no one moved. Usually his driver got out first and opened the door for him. Glancing around the enclosed space, he finally and reluctantly looked at Marcus.

“Do I go?”

“No.”

He didn't say any more than that. Before he could think of something else to ask, the door on his side opened. Ward caught who it was as they slipped inside, pushing to sit next to him. He slid across the seat to put space there and met resistance where Marcus sat and refused to budge. Stuck between the pair of men, he glowered down into his hands in his lap, unhappy and far too closed in.

“Kuo,” he mumbled by way of greeting.

“Ward.” Kuo returned, smiling graciously at him.

Fully aware both men were turned in their spots staring at him, he dug his focus into his hands all the more fierce. The man on his left had seen what his father did to his son at his worst. It was a deeply personal and painful secret he kept hidden from everyone. The man on his right knew it all too, even if he hadn't seen with his own eyes, or helped instigate it into happening again. And he knew what they would ask, knew what he would say, and knew what would become of him.

“A month has passed. And now I've learned the end of life as we know it approaches in haste. Time for preparation is no longer on our side. I need you to say yes.”

“No,” he stubbornly spat.

“I will remove your father from the home, keep him somewhere he can't hurt anybody. I can guarantee he will never lay a finger on you ever again. He will be executed in front of you or at your own hand if you desire, once we ascertain your loyalty and devotion is true.”

Be rid of the old man. He'd be lying if he didn't wish he was gone. He'd tried to hire freakin' Punisher to do the deed. Killing him himself was actually a little tougher despite having committed the act two times. Once, he wasn't in any sane state of the mind, and the second time was to stop his crazed father from shooting people. It wouldn't exactly be in cold blood if he murdered his dad now, not with what he did to him every night, but he suspected his mind would crack for good if he killed the man solely out of self-interest. He didn't know why protecting himself seemed less important after Harold's newest return.

He was tempted to save himself just a little bit. The urge to save himself wasn't anywhere near as strong as his urge to just not be doing the wrong thing for once though. Killing somebody was wrong, much as saving somebody else was right. It didn't make sense. He was hopelessly in a state of perpetual confusion.

The clear thing in his mind was it would never be the right thing to help Kuo, former Hand member, current fanatical cult leader. Heart might as well have been a carbon copy of the Hand in his opinion, with fewer ninjas and more plain-clothed boogeymen to jump out and get you when you least expected. No, a year and a half onward gave him time enough to develop freedom from his father's poisonous influence, even if he wasn't free from the man himself throughout the past four weeks. Able to make his own unaffected decisions, Ward didn't want to be the one to hurt people for once.

“Not interested.”

Kuo regarded him with a continuing affable and disconcerting demeanor. “I see.”

The man on his right put a hand on his shoulder. It was to be reassuring; it was not. “Rethink things tonight.”

“Alex is taking care of some business for me.” mentioned Kuo, absentmindedly. His gaze was drawn out the window, appearing distracted by something else in his thoughts. “Owen will ensure your dinner is eaten.”

Owen. Also one of them from that night like Alex. Occasionally seen monitoring his place in ninja garb. Primarily present during the daily training hours Kuo allotted them. Always recognizable despite his near universal nighttime appearances and ninja garb because of those eyes. Big brown expressing orbs which told him he didn't like what happened between father and son during the night. Guilt was readable all over his meant to be blank and obedient face. At least he got a guy who could share in his distaste of an abuser.

He glanced at his watch. It was really late already. Maybe he'd be fortunate and Harold would be in his sleeping chamber, impatient to have been left waiting so long for him. He doubted it. He was sickeningly sure his father was convinced he only had him to hang onto for a semblance of his former life. It would be sad if he wasn't an enormous monster.

Kuo reopened the car door and sought his attention a final time to leave him with the single effective threat he knew he had. “I leave you with your father.”

Walking into his house a minute later, he didn't see Owen anywhere, but his father was sitting on the couch watching television. The man didn't seem to notice him as he shut the front door and moved quietly behind his line of sight. Maybe if he reached his room and shoved a heavy dresser against the door, he wouldn't be disturbed tonight.

But Kuo must have predicted his answer tonight. He was horrified to discover his dad's cryo chamber had been moved into his bedroom, not far from the bed.


	9. Chapter 8: Team

_**“We make quite a team.”** _   
_**-Danny Rand** _

_TUESDAY, EVENING_

“You okay?”

Flame and stone was scattered all over the place. Sirens blared in the distance, screams and shouting. Mr. Interpol blew up three parked cars on the street. How could he know she would be standing by those three cars? Unless they were planted. Unless he'd been ready and waiting for someone like her to come strolling down that exact sidewalk. Knew she would listen to someone pleading for her help. She did not appreciate being in the dark on how somebody could be that prepared.

Jessica heard scuffling beside her. Freddy groaned and rolled onto his back, uttering, “What happened?”

“That would be called an explosion.”

Groggily returning to awareness and gripping his arm to his side, he blinked blankly at her. She rolled onto her knees and checked the surroundings. Cops would be coming around to investigate and she didn't need the headache. Besides, she had an appointment for kicking ass to keep.

“Bastard messing my shit up. Not cool.”

“Who was that guy?” the college kid lying next to her wailed. “Why did he try to kill us?”

“Million dollar question, Freddy. But that's the kind of crap that happens when you get into bed with bad people.”

“I'm sorry,” he remorsefully expressed. “I had to.”

She didn't need to bother with a pawn. He wouldn't know anything or be useful. “Alright. You go home. I'm gonna go get some answers.”

He sat up, fright sketched on his face. “Do you know where to go?”

“That depends. Were you telling the truth about the where?”

“Yeah. They didn't think you'd be alive to ever reach it.”

She bit down on her tongue to avoid speaking. Jessica was incredibly irritated this punk would throw her life away for his brother. Of course she understood the reasoning, love and all that bullshit. Didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

Poking at a sore spot she could feel forming on her cheekbone, she grit her teeth and locked eyes with her fake client.

“Parking garage under construction ten blocks from here,” she announced, standing up. “I'll find it.”

/

“Aw, come on!” Colleen complained. “Now who are those guys?”

Danny staggered to a halt at a curve in the ramp. Ahead of him was his girlfriend and he tracked where she was looking. There was an increase of bad guys happening as they poured in from the main entrance. These people were dressed in various hues of clothing save for their matching black leather jackets. Hispanic.

He glanced behind himself to where Luke was knocking assailants about left and right. The man was pissed the men in gray assault gear were carrying short blades that could cut through his typically impervious skin. Aside from a thin cut on his arm, the only thing their enemies managed to do was earn renewed ferocity in their wannabe victim's bearing upon them.

One of the masked men attacked Colleen, distracting and causing him to almost miss the Hispanic firing a gun at him. He moved, avoiding the path of the bullet, and tossed himself over the side of the ramp without any further hesitation. Knowing what was below and the height, he managed to land on his feet atop one of the black SUVs, rolling forward and off in a single smooth motion. When he stood on the ground floor, he examined fresh surroundings.

There were a lot of criminals humming about here. The guys in the street clothes were continuing to transfer the crates of weapons into parked semi-trucks, behaving as though a battle was not currently raging all around them. He searched for their leader. Put him down, he could put a stop to their efforts. Theoretically.

The man with a silver and white beard and head of hair was nowhere he could see. What did they say his name was..? Calburn... He'd never heard the name until tonight. The leather jacket crew who had begun to ascend the car ramp finally took notice of his presence on the ground. Not the most observant bunch.

Shouting in Spanish echoed throughout the place as they presumably communicated their plan of attack. Someone else was yelling at them for firing a gun.

“You wanna bring the bloody cops down on us? Idiots!”

Ah. Danny zeroed in on his yelling target.

“Calburn!”

He heard his name and turned round to look. He didn't hesitate to yell for them to get on him. This late arrival crew did hesitate. They had handguns out and appeared eager to use them. When the first put his gun away in exchange for a knife, the rest followed suit. These men weren't trained in martial arts or anything of the sort. It was simple enough to read that on them by the manner in which they crept forward, reluctant to engage him at close quarters. They knew he could kick their ass, but orders were orders.

Danny grinned and waited. Their mistake for putting him up against the least skilled of them. This would be entertainingly fun.

The dozen or so were nearing striking distance when an airborne sports car slammed into the side of them, instantly knocking over three and scattering the remainder. He searched the direction the car came from and was quick to understand it had been thrown by the skinny woman striding through the entrance.

“What's up, boys?” Jessica Jones merrily greeted. Her face dropped a little. “Hey, where you going?”

Calburn was not amused, huffing in anger by her appearance. “Kill her too! Get it done you good for nothings!”

She fixed her attention on him. “Trying to kill me before I've even gotten the chance to know your name. I've gotta say, not very nice.”

The shipment completion had become derailed, everybody working on it ceasing to confront the newest intruder. Jessica seemed pleased to be a distraction and smiled at the men who were apparently going to assault her with their mere fists. Her strength could easily overpower any of them, though perhaps in high enough numbers they would be able to overwhelm.

“Jessica!” he called out.

Noticing him, she put her arms up in a kind of “why” gesture. “What the hell, Rand?”

The first of the street clothed thugs reached her and she grabbed his arm, snapping it effortlessly. She shoved him out of the way of her field of vision so she could be looking across the room at Danny again.

“What's the idea?” she asked him, ducking beneath a trio of guys and twisting around to give one of them a solid kick. “Having a party without inviting me..”

Jessica slammed an elbow into one of them trying to punch her and gave the guy next to him a fist to the face. Both tumbled away in pain, struggling to recuperate. She welcomed the rest of them to keep on coming. Reluctantly, they did.

He ran forward and joined into the fray, landing highly skilled blows against them. It was a minute or two and then they were mumbling and tripping over each other to get distance from the two defenders of New York. They went to join the leather jacket wearing men who had yet to make their move on Danny following the car throwing incident.

Stepping up to stand beside her, he said, “These people are bad news.”

“I get the idea, yeah,” she snorted. “Tracked the obviously up to no good cartel to this place. Blackmailed someone to pretend to be a client and then tried to blow the both of us up. You?”

Danny put himself in a combat stance, breathing in and out evenly. “Luke caught the gray uniform types stirring up trouble in his neighborhood. I mean, I don't think they looked like that then, but it was them.”

He noted his comment had her frowning at him and he glanced sideways uncertainly. “What?”

“Doesn't it sound the slightest bit like a trap to you?”

It was his turn to crinkle his face into a frown. “What do you mean?”

A new voice addressing him directly brought their combined focus to the masked gray leader.

“Iron Fist. Though you are most certainly not welcome for interrupting our business here tonight, welcome.”

He was standing on the roof of one of the black SUVs that brought him and his men shortly before. Why he would do that was uncertain. Maybe to make his voice more easily heard or to gain their quick attention. Grandstanding as it were.

“Who are you?” demanded Danny.

“We are Wachhund,” he explained, clear enough despite the scarf. Also clear was his German accent. “In your language, Watch Dog, or as some have come to call us, Cerberus.”

“What do you people think you're doing?” Jessica demanded.

The answer came readily. “Heart. As a powerful Heart, Wachhund is the portion responsible for eigengrau, or eigenlicht. That means intrinsic gray. Never the true darkness, but instead what you see in the absence of light.”

He spoke carefully, poignantly. It showed signs of talking about a heart as a metaphor or something with bigger meaning. He didn't understand what that significance could be.

Impatiently, Jessica asked, “Meaning?”

“We are always there. We are everywhere. We are 'immer wahrend'. Eternal. We are, in many ways, the gray that exists within each soul, in everything.”

“Sounds like a load of crap,” the private investigator determined. “Poetic sounding, but nonsense.”

“But you understand the morally gray, Ms. Jones,” he mused. “Which means you are closer to understanding us than say, your friend there.”

Danny glared at the presumptuous nature of this man's declarations. “Why are you in New York?”

The black visor covering his eyes bothered him. He wanted to see who he was talking to. It was the best method to read someone and know their selves. He was learning how to better identify the hearts of those he encountered, past experiences teaching him never to accept a person at face value. This situation took no thought. They were bringing weapons into the city. His claimed home.

“The present world's time has come to its end. A natural conclusion in our eyes,” the man explained. “Corruption pervades, sickness spreads, the planet itself dying. The selfish nature of mankind created and fortified its own self-destruction. We are here to facilitate the transition between the old and the new.”

Jessica sounded alarmed. “Another crazy group of people intending an operation to change the world? Has everybody lost their minds?”

It was a reminder of the shadow organization, Hand. There was an unpleasant taste left in his mouth. The Iron Fist was the sworn enemy of the Hand and he defeated them with finality. They were planning action against New York and beyond when he and the others labeled defenders stopped them. Now here was another organization intending similar, if not worse plans for New York. It would not be allowed.

A gloved hand came up to rest on the man's belt while a finger on the other pointed toward the two of them.

“You and your kind will not get to live in the new world.”

“Surprise, surprise,” a less than thrilled woman remarked a short distance away. “You're trying to remove the Defenders from the equation.”

Colleen slid to a quick stop near the bottom of the ramp. Separated by a wall of leather jacket criminals with their backs to her. She was spared a few glances from them but when she did not attack, merely went back to looking at him and Jessica. Letting this man talk. So he must be in charge of everyone here?

“But not me. At least not me dead. What do you want from me?”

In his experience, the bad people wanted to use the power of the Iron Fist for their own personal gain. He would never be tricked into letting that happen again. He'd been incredibly stupid to let it occur the first time. There would never be a second time he would be that foolish. His respect and control over his power was much stronger compared to when he first left K'un-Lun. His determination to use its power for good and the protection of his chosen home would not falter either.

“Let you drown in your despair.”

As bewildered as he was, Jessica spoke up. “Come again?”

“Kill the women!” he commanded, and flipped off the top of the car to the ground.

When he glanced at Jessica to get her reaction, she rolled her eyes and strolled straight into the crowd of jackets. Colleen quickly joined in and the pair of women took on the mob with practiced ease. Lifting his gaze to the level above, he could just make out Luke continuing to fight the armored ones.

“You can't protect this city.”

Danny lowered his attention to the speaker. The masked man was reaching over his right shoulder, removing a baton kept there. He clicked a switch and the narrow weapon extended on both sides, creating a staff.

“You never really answered. What do you want from me?”

The man stepped closer, squaring off with him. Danny put himself in combat stance, circling around one another, neither being the first to engage. He would attack but he was waiting for his answer.

“You can't protect your allies,” was all the man said.

“Answer me!”

“I did. But you failed to listen.”

Angry at not getting what he wanted, he sprang forward, swinging a fist at him. His arm was batted away by the staff and he spun himself about to lash out with a foot. The full force of the rod was brought down on his leg, and he grimaced, stepping back. The weapon was a strong material that really hurt, unsurprising.

“Your failure to heed the signs is proof you will fail your allies as you will fail this city. In the end, your fall will come shortly before this city falls to ash.”

Danny came at him again, landing and missing blows in turn, but the ones landing didn't cause him to falter much. He sought out weak points and aimed to hit the spots between armored plates, but his opponent had now turned onto the offensive. The end of the staff glanced off the edge of his jaw despite his attempt at avoidance.

He stumbled and tripped, falling toward the ground. Catching himself on his hands, he immediately pushed up and hopped back to balanced feet. His hands pressed flat to each other as concentration filled his entirety. He focused solely on the chi, allowing it to flow through his body to encompass him.

The staff was swinging downward at him in a vertical arc. He met it halfway, intending to snap the weapon in two, then try to get some answers from his enemy. Instead his empowered fist connected and met resistance.

It didn't break. Taking advantage of his puzzled state, the man kicked out, hitting him in the chest. Danny staggered away, clutching the spot he was struck and eying the opposing weapon like it might snap outward and strike him all on its own.

“Like it?” the masked leader inquired conversationally. “I inherited this from my father and his before.”

“Who are you?” he pointlessly demanded, knowing he wouldn't receive an answer.

“Eternal.”

Danny ducked a swing and stepped quick to continue avoiding a renewed assault on him. When he finally managed to get a moment to breathe again, he channeled chi into his fist. He used his left hand to gain a hold on the weapon and drove his glowing fist into his enemy's chest.

The powerful blow made him fly across the room, slamming against the side of the SUV he'd been standing atop earlier. His eyepiece was partially shattered, staff fallen from his hands, and he clutched at his face. He was trying to prevent it from revealing his face. Who was this guy?

He managed to keep it covering, though part of his eye and cheek were showing from the missing chunks in the plastic gear. The man gripped the side of the truck to pull himself to his feet. His head came around to look at Danny.

“That fist is as powerful as the stories tell.”

Any further words they might have exchanged were abandoned when a body falling onto the roof of the SUV drew their attention. A second one followed right after but this one was from somebody who jumped purposefully and landed on his feet. The first wasn't so lucky, and groaned, barely conscious form rolling a bit before going still.

Luke kicked the guy a final time anyway. “Yeah! Recognize me now I bet, don't you?”

The single eye he could see in the leader narrowed, turning and staring up at the guy. Danny took the brief respite to find his other friends. But instead he glimpsed someone in ninja attire creeping within shadows. Before he could begin to surmise what the ninja was doing there, he was sidetracked by Luke now on the ground floor fighting his former opponent.

His ally held the clear victory in his grasp by superior strength. However, whenever the staff hit him, it hit him like it would anybody else. Luke was far from just anybody. Once more he found himself wondering where the soldier looking people got their weapons.

“Danny!” Colleen called, jogging across the room to join him with Jessica doing the same not far behind.

A perusal informed him the enemy was scattering. The conscious ones were dragging their unconscious buddies away from the area, making a run for it. Since they were abandoning the trucks filled with crates of weapons, he allowed them to go. His partner reached him and saw something he didn't, yelling a warning toward Luke too late.

The masked man must have flicked yet another switch on his long staff because a sharp end caught Danny's eye. He managed to jab it into Luke's shoulder right as the man grabbed hold of his throat. Luke lifted him off the ground and squeezed. His expression spoke of how annoyed he was they could break his skin with their blades.

As fast as he'd won the upper hand, he lost it for no apparent reason, opening his grip. The leader hit the ground roughly and rolled himself up with a backwards somersault away from him. Rubbing his throat, he glanced up at the roof of the SUV where the unconscious man was no longer, and then at the driver still obediently seated silently behind the wheel. Honestly, Danny had forgotten all about them.

Engines turned on near simultaneously, and the black cars sped into motion, speeding for the front entrance. Jessica looked as though she was considering on a way to prevent their retreat, but then they all noticed Luke as he dropped to the ground.

“Luke!” the investigator yelled.

Danny and Colleen raced to join her at their fallen friend's side. The leader had gotten in an SUV and left with the rest, but he put that frustration out of his mind. There was a much more immediate concern.

He instantly knew to check the spot where the spear had stuck him, however shallowly. Luke lied on his back, disoriented and unresponsive to their worried questions. The hole wasn't too big and wasn't bleeding very much.

“What can even hurt him, Danny?” Colleen was asking.

He only shook his head, clueless as to what might be capable of it. Soon he'd fallen unconscious, eyes slipping closed, and they were exchanging terrified looks. What if it was a type of poison?

Jessica must have been sharing his train of thought by watching him. She peered down at Luke.

“There might have been some kind of substance coating the tip of the spear. We have to get him to a hospital.”

“Wait.”

He had a better hold of his powers. He could heal this. Danny shut his eyes, focusing his chi. He settled himself, feeling for whatever was disrupting inside Luke's body. But there was nothing there.

Danny opened his eyes, confused. “I can't find anything wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” Colleen questioned. “He's unconscious!”

“I can't sense anything,” he muttered, staring helplessly down at his friend.

Colleen placed fingers to his throat. “His pulse feels normal.”

Both of them were looking at him now, expectantly. He didn't have the answers. He didn't know what was going on. There was something major happening inside New York and he didn't have a clue about that either. He was useless.

When all he did was stare numbly at his hands, his failure to utilize his chi, Jessica groaned in impatience and distress.

“Danny?”

“I'm calling Claire,” announced Colleen.

Jessica agreed, but persisted. “We should get him to a hospital.”

“I don't know,” he finally managed to say aloud. “I don't know why I can't use my power.”


	10. Chapter 9: Difficult Circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be doing some traveling for the weekend and into the week, so seeing as how I promised Sunday for a new chapter, here it is early.

**_“You're the only link to a life that I had. It kept me going under very difficult circumstances.”_ **   
**_-Danny Rand_ **

_SATURDAY, EVENING-FOUR WEEKS, FOUR AND A HALF DAYS SINCE **TUESDAY**_

“Think.”

In a lot of pain, he forced himself to put his hands beneath and push off the ground. He grabbed hold of the side of the bed and dragged his body on top of it. His dad had been beating him with his belt again, accusing of not listening to his rant on the poison of present society and how much it required men like Harold Meachum.

He'd started giving his speech shortly after shoving his cock into Ward's mouth and complaining about how he never tried to please him anymore. Delusional Harold somehow seemed to miss out on the fact that he was a prisoner in his own home. And if he told his father he hated him, he received a punch to his gut followed by speech concerning his lack of motivation and appreciation for the company he'd been given to run in his stead.

Over a month this daily abuse had been going on, and he was beginning to feel his sanity slipping. He refused to entertain the idea of helping Kuo and Heart, refused to let the thought fully develop in his mind. If he did that, he risked considering the positives of saying yes. They would kill Harold for him. He would never be raped by his own dad ever again. Oh, he was considering.

He shook the tempting thoughts from his mind and made himself look at Harold, who was staring expectantly. Ignoring the burning coming from his back, he sat up and met the stare boldly. Ignoring what he knew was desired from him, he said what he wanted instead.

“I think you're out of your mind.”

The anger was quick and the blow hard. He clutched his side, curling in on himself at the tremendous pain. When his father climbed on top of him, his desperation to avoid what he knew was coming superseded it rapidly.

Although it was pointless, he tried begging. “Please, don't. I get it. Dad, please.”

“You say you get it, you say you'll take care of things, but you're merely placating me with words.”

A frantic sob slipped past his lips as his dad momentarily struggled with him and then overpowered, putting him on his back and undoing his pants. Only when a hand enclosed his balls tight did he cease resisting. He really, really didn't need those squeezed to the point of extreme pain tonight. The rape he wouldn't be able to stop, but he could at least minimize how much physical agony he would be in later.

“Do you remember when you were 27? I made certain we had a personal night to ourselves at least once a month.”

Oh God did he remember that. The sexual abuse tended to be a rarer form of punishment, and then suddenly it was like one day Harold woke up and decided this was a gift he was bestowing on his son. An entire year he'd shown up to the penthouse in absolute dread, wondering if it would be the night be was forced to stay. Even though he knew the horror that might be coming, he would keep going to protect his sister. Somehow that was what his father had convinced him he needed to do.

“Because I love you so much, Ward.”

He despised hearing it. He always did.

“I want this to be like it was then. You understand?”

What was his dad talking about? He stared at the man in confusion when he removed his hands from him and got off the bed. Was he leaving him alone? Such a silly hope but he thought it anyway.

“No? Of course not.”

His father was shaking his head in familiar disappointment at his muteness. But about this? Madness.

“Take off your clothes,” he told him as though helping him along. “And mean it.”

Comprehension clicked into place. Of every single depraved or agonizing thing his dad ever did to him, this right there was the very worst of the worst. Forcing him to participate in the rape, forcing him to pretend it was consensual and he liked it. The single scorch mark on his soul he could never seem to erase from his mind if he ever wanted to. Those memories refused to budge, resiliently remaining crystal clear images in memory. Everything else he felt he'd done remarkably well at putting behind him in order to live his own life. Not this.

“I won't do it,” he uttered, volume barely reaching louder than a whisper.

Harold smiled, the smile failing to reach his eyes. “You have two choices.”

His eyes closed. Why didn't he tell Danny when he had the chance? Why did he ever fool himself into thinking he would be able to find some other means to save himself? What exactly did he think he was proving by not involving the guy? Joy wasn't around to protect anymore. Danny was. Danny, who was the only one he knew who at least didn't hate him or think he was some selfish rich kid that got whatever he wanted. Or at least he had, until the visit to the office where he essentially accused Ward of being just that.

Kuo's promise echoed in his head. Alone. He was alone. But he was offering companionship, partners to usher in the next world. It would be easier if he really was what people thought he was. He wished he didn't care about this world and the people living in it. Apathy. He should try harder at that philosophy. Of course, his father would approve, which instantly caused the idea to be less appealing.

“Do as I say, and after I will leave you alone the rest of the night,” he offered. “And, I will leave you alone tomorrow too.”

“I could ignore you,” he pointed out. “I could tell Kuo I cooperate and you need to go.”

“We've talked about the plan, Ward. Don't let emotional thinking cloud your judgment.”

He glared straight into his eyes. “Everybody's so damn sure of what my future should be.”

“Your other choice,” Harold went on like they had never sidetracked. “Is that I'll go ahead and keep on taking what I want from you, all night. And then I'm going to have a chat with your friend from the office, Patterson was it? See about getting some of the drug he gives you when you're punished by these people. Start using that on you myself. Should do wonders to humble you then, hm?”

His wounded nature was showing on his face, he was certain of it. But he didn't have it in him to hide. Harold looked pleased when he saw how he was affected.

“I hear it's agonizing.”

He started removing his clothes, preventing himself from disassociating as his mind struggled to. The look of eagerness appearing on his father's face nearly made the severance occur anyway, desperate to escape this sordid reality.

Eyes met the carpet while his dad was undressing himself, unwilling to see it and wanting there to have been at least one other sexual experience to put in place of this horror show. He was too damaged. His father controlled every aspect of his life, took the possibility of there ever being someone else when he became his first sexual experience. Scarred him to the point it was impossible to be with another person sexually because it was filled with the memories of sounds, scents, and touches that were base, abhorrent, wrong.

There were tears gathering in his eyes. After his father was finally gone, he'd understood he might be asexual from his nightmarish history for the rest of his life. He was okay with that, as his father was still dead and buried. But then he hadn't been. And history repeated harsher than the last time.

His fingers reached up to wipe the tears away. He couldn't let his father see.

“Wait.”

Fingers stilled centimeters from his upper face. Caught crying. Crying was for children. It was weakness. What would his dad do?

“Put your hand down.”

Obediently, he put his hand back to his side, standing there next to his bed like he wasn't naked. Ward made himself put his head up to look at Harold, knowing he would get angry if he thought he was being ignored in the slightest.

It was a struggle but he managed to keep from outwardly revealing the revulsion and hatred he felt as his father approached. He let his dad cup his face gently, wipe away the tears. He could almost lie to himself and believe it was a familial and appropriate gesture.

Harold wrapped his arms around him and initiated a kiss. It took everything to keep from sobbing his dismay at the mockery of romance on display. He wondered if he could try and put any other face in place of his father.

The hold tightened and he realized his lack of reciprocation was being warned. He opened his mouth and could actually feel Harold's lips quirk upward in a smile against his face before he delved into the opening. Forcing himself to return the kiss, his thoughts wandered toward other possible faces.

He was typically surrounded by people he didn't like or didn't know much about, and if he had any hope of even sort of putting someone else in place of his own dad, he had to be able to connect. A blur of board members swept in and then out almost as quickly. They were reminders of his father's old life and nature so it didn't help.

Hands squeezed his ass and geez if he didn't nearly pull away and try to hit the guy right there. He would pay dearly if he changed his decision now that this was already happening. Ward swallowed the bile rising in his throat, put his own hands on Harold's hips and deepened the kiss.

Faces. Kuo arose in his mind and that was not anywhere near a good replacement. Marcus, his driver Trevor, and Owen last, came and went from his surface images. Bad men. People who kept him prisoner. Not happy thoughts. See, this never worked. He could never find and lock in someone who didn't want to do him harm or keep him from living his own life. His recent visitors at work came into his head then.

Colleen was a very pretty woman but masculine hands feeling across his nude form and the very unladylike sex organ pressing against his hip caused her to vanish. Danny's face was staring back at him, distrusting and worried. Concern for his well being? He could pretend it was even if it wasn't. But Danny?

The kiss broke off. Harold's hands slipped between his thighs and felt along sore flesh from previous encounters. His eyes opened at the shock of a finger suddenly entering him and he was staring into his father's pleasure-filled face. The number of times he'd been penetrated in recent weeks, the preparation was unnecessary, but his dad liked sticking digits into him. Bastard... He fought to drag the image of Danny's profile up.

He tried to remember him when he was sympathetic, standing beside him watching his father's body be cremated. When the body was supposed to have been destroyed. It was the closest he'd felt to the other man. The most honest he ever was with another person too.

Growing a little impatient, Harold added a second finger and then shuffled them onto the bed. Ward adjusted to the weight of him and he rested his hands on his back. It wasn't his dad. It was Danny. Danny, Danny, Danny.

Teeth bit at his neck, his shoulder. The other hand groped his flesh, and then the mouth returned to press down on his own. He accepted and tried to convince himself it was the sole action going on, to block the feel of the intrusion below.

A knee prodded to slip between his thighs and he spread his legs to allow access. His eyes closed briefly, while Harold went to retrieve the lubrication. Danny would be kind, he imagined. The sort of person who would ask permission and never let you forget how much you meant to him. He was stubborn and tough, which could account for the habit of biting and slightly rough handling.

His eyes opened when he heard the footsteps returning, avoiding potential retaliation if they remained shut.

No words were spoken between his father climbing back onto him and pushing in. After repeated insertion daily for weeks straight, his body gave easily. He kept his body slack, scrunched up his face when pleasurable stimulation spread throughout him. Danny had a thinner frame, but it wasn't so hard to pretend the neck down could belong to him tonight. Especially since Harold preferred close contact, and a lot of it.

Ward was pushed deeper into the mattress as his father pressed flat against him, chest to chest, groin to groin. His body was far from unresponsive with the dick brushing his prostate, the sensation of fullness, and then Harold was moving. He pushed aside the immediate heated shame he felt as his own dick grew erect. Repetitive shallow thrusts to keep himself encased in the younger body beneath him was performed. He was nipping at his ear and once again a visual of Danny replaced him to prevent any crying or blanking out.

He rendered the feeling of facial hair rubbing across the side of his face, his neck. Conceptualized how it would look to have Danny closing a firm hand around the length of his cock, seeking to bring him to completion. Danny would go slow too, desiring such a display of love to be comfortable, enjoyable, and lasting.

A hand combed through his hair, his name emerging from the lips of his lover into the side of his neck. The pace of thrusts quickened and deepened, moans releasing out of his own mouth. He was complimented and the speaker became Danny's praising and pleasing voice instead of the low, fixed intervals of his father's voice.

The attentive touches and funnel the hand created caused him to climax. He gasped at the pleasure, head lifting off the covers before falling back down. His legs wrapped about Harold's lower half, knowing it might urge him to go faster and still think the hole he was fucking was a willing one.

Lips on his. Facial hair, a kind smile like he couldn't be happier to have sex with someone he loved. He cried out when particularly strong thrusts rocked against him and his hands went to shoulders, searching for a grip. Danny, Danny, Danny. It was so difficult to keep the image in place.

When his father finally climaxed inside him, he nearly wept in joy for it to be finished. The heavy body fell completely on top of him and his own hands let go of Harold, tightening in the sheets. He wouldn't cry. It would only make him angry. He might take back the deal. He'd muddled through it.

The pain from the earlier lashing returned without the distraction of further assault. At least there wasn't bleeding this time. No blood on the sheets or the blue t-shirt laying crumpled on the floor. Just welts. Lucky him.

Harold pulled out of him and got up from the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself up and while he was gone, Ward did his best to clean his own body by using the already soiled sheets as a towel. He dumped them on the floor after he was done, then put his clothes back on. Searching to hide the evidence of what happened.

His dad returned to the bedroom a minute later and crinkled his nose at the overpowering scent of cologne everywhere. He refused to smell like his father or sex longer than he had to. After a moment, Harold put the issue to the back of his head and contemplated Ward thoughtfully.

“Now think, Ward.”

He swallowed hard. Ah, right back to the manipulations. He knew the answer to protect himself from further consequences. Searching within to find a sliver of something that wasn't dark, he latched on to the tiny thing like his life depended on it. Because his life depended on it.

“Yes,” he responded, keeping his tone flat but certain. “You're right, Dad. I'm sorry.”

Harold smiled, delighted. “Good, son. That's good.”

Ward considered that somehow his father might outlive them all, cockroach that he was...

The front door slammed. He knew he visibly startled even if his mind was uncertain because his dad was looking at him in amusement.

“Here. Now!” a voice boomed. He thought it possibly belonged to Alex.

He followed his father to the living room where several people awaited. One of them was indeed Alex, outfitted in his ninja attire. Kuo was pacing in front of the door, and the entirety of his day guard was scattered about the room. Owen had been in the house earlier for his training, but it didn't appear he'd come back for this visit.

When they walked in, Kuo ceased pacing and glanced in their direction.

“Harold, leave the house for a while. Enjoy your freedom somewhere in the city that isn't here.”

Uncertainly, he looked to his dad, who scrutinized the man under heavy suspicion. “Everything okay?”

“Alex will accompany you.”

Patterson came into the room from the kitchen, chewing on half a sandwich. His eyes lifted to him and he smiled between his subsequent bites. He took a seat in an armchair, relaxing casually.

Ward shifted in place and lied. “It's work stuff, Dad. I'll take care of it.”

Their eyes locked. He knew Harold was trying to interpret if he would be stupid enough to betray him again when all that ever did was leave him with future repercussions. A definite message concerning the plotting he fully expected his son to obey passed between them in the same stare.

His father broke the silent exchange and smiled insincerely toward Kuo. “Great idea. I could use the air.”

He went out the front door with Alex and Kuo locked it behind them. As the deadbolt slid into place, Marcus encouraged him to sit. It couldn't be good news if Marcus Patterson was in his home. He'd never been there aside from the day he was introduced to his guard. People who he'd learned weren't so bad. Marcus was mostly a sadist, but the other two were mostly misguided in their ideals. If they made some different choices in life, they'd probably be good people. It was terrifying how easy it could be to slip, become like any one of them had become.

The woman was the one of the three he'd interacted with the least. Primarily because while she was an agent of Heart on the inside at Rand Enterprises, her role was limited until Ward chose to cooperate. She was a lawyer. A suave, beautiful woman with olive skin and a tightly groomed appearance. Mikka Marks had a great rack too, not that he was dehumanizing her or anything. It was hard to miss with the tight, partially revealing dresses she constantly wore.

She snapped her fingers, strolling over to join him on the couch. “Hey, mind your eyeline.”

Mortified to be caught leering, he slouched into the cushions, feigning interest in his fingers.

“Nah,” his driver said, sitting on the couch diagonal to the one occupied by the two of them. “Don't listen to her. M likes it.”

His driver prevented him from running on two separate occasions in the initial weeks of the cage put up around his life. Trevor Milstone by all appearances was a charming and disarming kind of guy. He could switch his demeanor like a mask sliding into place, showing his darkest and most violent nature. His ridiculous karate skills kept Ward from trying a third occasion to flee. Only a single time did he manage to temporarily slip past the man's keen watch. Much later.

She huffed but didn't respond to his claim. Reclining her face into the hand of the arm resting on her leg, she openly speculated concerning him.

“He still seems too young to handle this properly.”

Marcus chuckled. “He's a wayward risk, but given time and the correct amount of motivation, we'll have exactly what we need.”

Humming to herself in thought, he watched her neatly manicured figures tap against a smooth cheek. “I suppose he's the heir. He'll have to do.”

Kuo held a tablet in his hands as he came to sit down next to Trevor. He didn't look happy. His serious gaze focused on him alone.

“Tonight you say yes.”

His hand went up in the air to stop him when he started to reply with the typical disagreement.

“There will be time to build our relationship into a veritable one of faith and trust. Now, now I require you to heed my command.”

Ward was exceptionally fascinated in how they thought they were going to convince him to do what they wanted. They controlled his life and tortured him every day for more than a month and he could still look at them like they were nuts. Harold was both used as a weapon to scare him and as an attempt to curry favor at the same time, with vows to get rid of him once he accepted their alliance. Joy was his weak spot during the very brief span of an alliance a year and a half ago. But she wasn't here to be used against him nowadays.

The man seemed to read into his silence and altered his topic a little.

“Danny Rand and his friends attacked one of my shipments a few days ago. Were you aware of this?”

He honestly wasn't. “I don't have any idea what you people are up to. No, I didn't know.”

“You're certain of this?”

Why was Kuo doubting him? What could he possibly know when they watched his every-? Oh... Oh, he would be blamed for a thing that hadn't even done him a lick of good. The unfairness was staggering. Hits just kept coming on him. Karmic retribution for past misdeeds? Danny would probably think so.

Marcus confirmed his rising agitation was fitting.

“We've decided absolute truth is necessary from you. Tell it willfully, and I won't have to use the drug I described. You remember me telling you about the interrogation drug, Versed, yes?”

He shrugged, stifling his instinct to flee, and met Kuo's intense stare. “What truth?”

“What did you say to Danny Rand when he came to the office to see you? Where did you go when you slipped past Trevor a few days before that?”

Obstinate, he lied. He had no trouble lying to bad people. “I already explained that to Marcus.”

Kuo got up and closed the short distance between them, crouching in front of where he was sitting. He took one of his arms in both hands and Ward let him. One hand beneath the arm, fingers of the other hand located his pulse and he knew he was screwed. Desperation led him to try a lie anyway. Some of it was true so maybe he could manage to pass it as complete truth.

“Repeat what you told him to me,” he ordered, meeting his eyes and holding them there.

“I wanted to get away for a while. Someplace I wasn't being constantly monitored. As for Danny, he just showed up. I didn't know he was coming and we didn't talk about anything useful.”

There. Lie of omission, but otherwise he was being entirely truthful. It seemed to be working too. Kuo nodded his head once, though his expression was unreadable.

“Your research on Frank Castle..was enlightening..regarding your trip out of our sight.”

His breath hitched. Of course they also monitored his computer usage. He'd erased the history but there must be methods of recovery he wasn't computer literate enough to know.

“Let me tell you what I think.” Kuo went on. “I think you proved yourself rather resourceful and found Castle. What ever did you want to discuss with him?”

The reply spat out, cocky and irritated, before he knew what he was saying. “I didn't manage to find him after all. With my luck I probably just missed him.”

Ward should have known better with fingers on his pulse, but his heart was pounding in his ears, screaming in his head to get away and not be found out. They would discipline him no matter what he said. No way out. Despairing. Hardly room for logic or collected thinking in there. His pulse must have been racing.

The hand solidified hold of his wrist and pulled. A sudden, sharp pain radiated from it and he barked out his distress.

“What the hell!”

He tried to get his arm away but the grip only tightened. The injury exacerbated, the pain intensified.

“Ward, stop lying.” Marcus supplied helpfully.

Yeah, right... “I'm not.”

Kuo released his arm and he cradled it to himself. He turned to view the woman sitting next to him.

“M, looks like we'll have to wait to attend to business until tomorrow. Take the night off.”

Brusquely, she stood and glowered downward at Ward, speaking to Kuo as she did. “Told you, he's too young.”

“That's why he's perfect.” Kuo told her, standing upright. “Plenty of room to expand his horizons.”

“Call me when there's actually something I can do,” she sniped on her walk across the room. “I canceled a dinner date for this.”

Her cell phone was out, fingers rapidly pressing buttons. “Give me a ride home, Trevor.”

Despite her curt behavior, Kuo merely smiled. He watched her go with his driver, mourning their ability to escape while he was trapped. He was in trouble. Would they use the drug and he wouldn't even remember what he told them? That direness was worth avoiding.

They'd barely cleared the door when the attack came. His vigilance that it would probably happen didn't do a thing to prevent its success. Kuo hit him in the solar plexus and while he was crumpling, he was flipped to his back and straddled by the older man on the couch. A grunt and a whining sound were all that emerged before the hand squeezed his throat closed.

“One final opportunity for honesty. Or Marcus will get to use his precious drug.”

Once again he'd failed to use his training. Owen would be disappointed if he could actually be bothered to care for some guy his master was currently obsessed with using. He blamed the loss of an arm for it, when he knew it was because he couldn't concentrate well enough to recall the hours and hours of training.

“Precious is a bit strong,” the other man replied with a half-suppressed giggle.

Ward tried to ease the grip on his neck using the arm that didn't cause him pain to move, fingers prying at it. By the manner in which the pressure was increasing and decreasing regularly, Kuo just wanted to make a show of his control. He took the hand from his neck and placed it on his forehead, like someone might check a fever.

“When you found him...?”

He gathered air with a few deep breaths, then stared up to meet his interrogator's eyes.

“I went looking for someone to kill Harold.”

The seriousness morphed into a contented smile. Out of his line of sight, behind Kuo, Marcus sniggered. Yeah, yeah, the guy was likely thrilled he'd been proven accurate about searching for those different avenues. Meanwhile, he was lying here wearing a body that felt more like an expansive bruise.

“What did he say?”

“He didn't say yes,” confessed Ward. “Danny found out what I did. Came to yell at me. Thinks I'm already doing the kinds of things you want me to do.”

The warm hand on his forehead combed through his hair tenderly. “Danny Rand would hold you back from achieving your true potential. He would seek to keep the old, tainted world in place because it's what he's known. But this is naivety. Those who share his mindset will perish.”

“Please,” he tried. “Get off me.”

Kuo shushed him and let both of his hands settle on top of his shirt collar, resting near the throat.

“Marcus.”

He heard the other man getting up and saw him as he walked to the other couch. For a moment he feared they were going to use the drug on him anyway, but he was only retrieving his leader's tablet. He switched it on and held it outward to face him, coming near.

There was video surveillance on the screen. It was a street corner somewhere in the city. He couldn't decipher where and since it was night, if there was something specific he was meant to be seeing, he was missing it.

“Say yes. Officially mark our alliance with the information on that piece of paper I gave earlier. Tomorrow you will meet with Marcus and M, work out the details of what needs to happen.”

The piece of paper containing bank account numbers and monetary amounts. He remembered. He'd kept it in his bedside drawer, assuming if he tried to dispose of it there would be more pain to contend with as punishment.

Screaming began on the camera footage, panic breaking out and people scattering in every direction. His eyes rapidly roved across the screen, trying to understand what was going on. A man was lying on the sidewalk, unmoving. Was that blood pooling around his head..? He didn't hear a gunshot. Was he stabbed?

“Frank Salm, happily married father of four, history professor at NYU. Now he's gone.”

Ward struggled to sit up, confusion and concern battling to take the top spot within him. Kuo didn't budge and he wasn't able to get his torso raised more than an inch off the couch. He let himself fall flat and switched his perplexed uncertainty between the tablet and the man holding him still.

“What was that? What did you do?”

“Say yes.”

“I..I don't understand,” he finally said.

Kuo studied him a moment before he answered. “My people out there are going to kill an innocent bystander until I have you on my side. We've selected a dozen targets tonight, and will select twelve new targets the next day, and the next...”

Marcus swiped a finger across the screen and attracted toward the motion, his eyes followed the movement. A new location was showing on the tablet now. Somebody else was going to die. Oh God...

“Why would you do that?” he exploded at them. “Murdering strangers on the street is supposed to make me help you? That's idiocy! That's..insane!”

“Switch to the feed with the pregnant woman. Signal her execution and then let's go with the little boy next.”

“No!” Ward protested, angry and bewildered. “Stop! Why? Don't do that!”

“Say yes. How many are you willing to let die so you can live your life in ignorance of the coming transformation?”

A view of a young girl wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans appeared in a circular framing. She was visibly pregnant, sitting on a bench at a bus stop. One hand rested atop her round belly and she held a cell phone in the other hand, talking to somebody on it. A gunshot echoed loudly in the feed, camera attached to the scope itself was a high probability. A second shot followed the first.

His panicked eyes sought some reassurance that it hadn't happened. But her head had fallen back, exposing the hole in her forehead, and there was a large red stain growing on the front of her sweatshirt. She was dead. Yet to be discovered, although it wouldn't be long judging by the increasing yells of panic from the loud shots.

“Terry Janis, nineteen, addicted to meth. Now she and her baby are gone too. Probably better for it. She was broke, the baby underdeveloped, and still using those drugs.”

He was breathing hard, straining to grasp the murders he was witnessing. The feed switched to a different one. A boy, maybe five years old, was holding the hand of a man and woman, presumably his parents. They were in a park, laughing happily. Unnoticed, a man in a heavy long coat and ball cap was trailing behind them. What appeared to be a blade slipped from his coat sleeve into his hand. His pace quickened forward.

Ward didn't break. He shattered.

“Yes! Yes! Stop! Please! Please, yes! Yes!”

His eyes tracked Marcus's deft fingers shifting the tablet to himself and tapping rapidly across the surface. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until the tablet went dark and the man informed him the hitters were called off. A whoosh of air and he slumped motionless beneath Kuo, feeling exhausted and drained.

Kuo established eye contact, putting hands on either side of his face.

“Monday you will go see Danny Rand. Persuade him there is nothing to be pursued concerning you. Say you have been depressed by your sister's absence. Say whatever you must to change his mind. Trevor will remain outside until you are finished.”

“A test?”

His father gave him enough of those to reckon this was the case.

“Loyalty. Naturally,” he responded, looking at him with affection of all things. “Partnership earned will be glorious. Now... reflect.”

He stared up at him, despairing because he was accepting. Ward knew what was coming, what he was meant to say in return.

“Your life. What's wrong?”

After he was finally given permission to sleep weeks ago, the following day a ritual commenced. Every morning and every evening before dinner he received a call. The first occasion he was informed of how the exchange would go on from that day forth. And here now, he was beginning that rote memorization forced upon him as a condition of his prison.

“I'm not in control,” he said, tone hushed, reluctant. “I am alone.”

The man above observed his subdued prey, evident his taught phrases were truth by how he could hold him there, compliant. Ward fought the shame, suppressing every emotion fighting to bubble to the surface. Self-awareness especially in such a vulnerable and exposed position let him know he was not wholly succeeding.

“And?”

He choked on the initial words and had to restart. “I wil-I will be in control. I will never be alone.”

“How?”

Doing his best to wipe the grief and fear from his expression, he answered, “With you.”

His keeper smiled warmly at the amenable being under him. He genuinely seemed to be harboring goodwill toward Ward and it felt both comforting and terrifying. Reduced to a compliant, spineless slave. But this man would at least love him for his allegiance.

Kuo climbed off him and sat normally on the couch, waiting, speaking one final piece of sage wisdom to keep the calm that had descended. “A new perspective awaits.”

As he was embraced, his arms automatically went up to return the gesture. The hug was manipulation, the action had to be. But it felt nice to distort this world just a little, so he could pretend it was real and benevolent. How nice it would be to not have to worry about what was going to happen next, if only for a short while. He was very tired.

What would become of him? When he made it past a month's time, Ward held onto a hope he could endure after all. He would no longer make a mistake like that. He doesn't hope anymore.


	11. Chapter 10: Opinion

**_“If you wish to see the truth, then hold no opinion.”_ **   
**_-Danny Rand_ **

_MONDAY, NOON_

“Are you sure it isn't just a matter of draining yourself too much during your battle?” Claire was asking him, not for the first time. “Or some kind of mental block?”

They knew something big was up for his power to vanish out of nowhere. He surprised even himself at how calmly he was handling the frustration of losing his ability. Probably because for some reason in his mind, he knew it remained inside. Something was preventing him from tapping into it properly though. But if he could figure it out, he would be able to heal Luke.

He walked beside her with Colleen walking a few feet ahead in the corridor leading to her dojo. They'd come from the hospital where Luke had been a patient since the Tuesday night battle which left him comatose. Jessica was there, and had been since his admittance, refusing to leave in case someone got the idea to try and take him out while he was helpless. Claire spent a lot of her time there too, but usually became furious the longer she had to watch him sleeping with no sign of ever waking.

She strode in front of him and twisted on her heel, putting a hand out flat on his chest to stop him in his path.

“It's been nearly a week, Danny. He's still in a coma and nobody can figure on the why. Medically he's in perfect health, which means this has to be something up your alley. Figure it out.”

“I know. I'm trying,” he promised. “The power of the Iron Fist hasn't left me. It just seems to be..inert.”

“Guys?”

Colleen had also stopped in the hall, a yard from reaching the door. “Does it sound like someone's inside?”

They got quiet, listening. Labored breathing, contact of fists on something solid. A fight? Colleen put her hand on the doorknob and met Danny's eyes, nodding a ready signal before throwing the door open and marching in.

Whenever there was combat or action, they were always perfectly in tune with one another. But it seemed like more and more as he'd better adopted the Iron Fist persona as hero to citizens of New York City, there was less connection happening between them. They had martial arts, an unhealthy relationship with violence, and care for each other. The quiet, peaceful days were great. However, he worried their attraction was driven by the buzz of fights and bad guy investigations. That it might not be all that real once they stepped away and took a hard look.

He shook the creeping doubt of their being from his mind. This wasn't the time or place to worry his girlfriend might not be with him forever. He was probably overreacting anyway, and things were fine. They just didn't seem fine, for some reason. It was fine.

Danny focused and quickly trailed behind the two women. They stood on either side of the door and were doing that and staring. His eyes immediately fell upon the intruder and now he was merely staring without reacting too. He was stunned to see Ward here. Maybe something they said at the office got to him after all. That would be nice.

Wait... What had he been doing? He'd heard the sounds of physical force being used in the room. A quick survey of the place told him no one else was here.

He scanned their visitor up and down and noticed Ward was wearing his work clothes. The suit jacket, tie, and shirt had been removed for easier movement in his undershirt, clothing set neatly on top of a table against one wall. Also saved from dampening his clothing with sweat. There was a thin sheen of it coating his exposed skin, beginnings of wet stains on the front of the white t-shirt.

His breathing was heavy and his knuckles were battered and bloodied. He wore a wrist guard on his left arm and both arms went behind his back as he turned away from the punching bag to face them. Ward's eyes were wide momentarily before his expression softened.

“Hey.” He glanced sideways at the bag slowly hanging still again. “Nobody was here and I thought I'd get a few punches in while I was waiting, relieve some of the stress. Hope that's okay.”

Ward addressed the last part to Colleen but Danny was the one to say something.

“How long were you waiting?”

The other man was suddenly appearing self-conscious. His response came partly mumbled while he went over to his clothing and began putting his dress shirt on despite his dampness.

“Uh.. A little over an hour maybe. It's no big deal.”

He felt relief wash through him. This was his opportunity to reach him, talk some sense into the following in Harold's footsteps if that was what he was doing. There had to be hope if he would come to see him of his own volition.

“I'm glad you came. I didn't like how we left things.”

“Yeah, that. So I'm here to show you I'm fine and you don't need to worry about me.”

Danny frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Okay, I have some things to get off my chest,” Claire piped up, never one to keep quiet if she had something to say. “But first, you're bleeding. Maybe we take care of that?”

When she stepped closer and reached for his hand, he recoiled away, staring at her like she would bite. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and put a hand to her hip.

“Could you get your first aid kit?”

“Yeah, sure,” Colleen reported and went to retrieve the item.

“Come on, sit down.” Claire ordered, tugging the chair out from the table by the wall.

Ward stood considering briefly, he wasn't sure what, and then ceased buttoning the shirt to do what she said. He placed his hands flat on the table, peering down at them curiously, like he was surprised to see the damage.

“What did you do to yourself?” she muttered, “Doesn't that hurt?”

“I got carried away.” He glanced over his shoulder to Danny. “I pictured my dad.”

Oh.. Touchy subject for the both of them. They hated the man but for Ward he knew it had to be different. Yes, he'd learned his father's best friend murdered him and his wife, nearly their son too. To know your own father did that, to have experienced decades of verbal and emotional abuse from someone meant to unconditionally love and care for you, and to still have to recognize he was his father...

Which made it all the more puzzling why he would ever do anything remotely like Harold after everything the son of a bitch did. As CEO of the company formerly founded by their fathers, could it be trying to run it the right way, on his own, ended up being too much for him?

He sought out his own chair and pulled it over, sitting close by the two of them as Colleen appeared with the kit.

“You know you're supposed to at least wrap your hands when you do that, right?” she helpfully supplied, eyebrow arching as she surveyed the bruising and broken skin. “Gloves would also help.”

Ward sneered at her. “Dad always said rules are for pussies.”

She dropped the medical case onto the table. “Uh huh. I'm the pussy.”

“He didn't mean that,” he assuaged, turning to him. “You didn't mean that, right?”

The other man didn't answer, an arrogant look on his face.

“Using an arm with an injured wrist to hit something is incredibly stupid too,” Claire added in defense of Colleen, no malice, only fact in her musing. “Like most of the men in my life, you're an idiot.”

She poured disinfectant onto the backs of his hands and he didn't react to the pain he surely must have been feeling. He watched her while she worked, cleaning his injuries. If anything, Danny thought he was reading some respect and deference toward the nurse off him.

Her eyes roved up to the wrist guard for a moment before returning to her task.

“Whatcha do to your arm anyway?”

“Didn't get a diagnosis. It hurts so I put a guard on.”

She speculated over his answer but anything surmised she chose to keep to herself. Danny wanted to hold a conversation and tried for casual. It wasn't his usual preference. It was what people did though.

“How is work going? The company is doing really well. Any problems? I know I'm not..good at the whole corporate business lifestyle, but if you need me to do something...”

He trailed away, hoping Ward would fill in the blanks in an informative way. He should have known better.

The man's mouth twisted, voice mocking in the underlining manner he used with someone he was humoring. Danny eventually picked up on the consistent use whenever he was talking to his long ago childhood friend with company concerns. There were nineteen months passing between then and now. With Harold out of the picture there had been no need to continue the masquerade. Yet here he was still getting the fake superiority complex from him. For what reason?

“Marcus doesn't like you much. Thinks you're a bad influence.”

“Okay, you'll live,” announced Claire, pushing her chair back a little to gain clear view of Ward. “My turn. A whole lot of money and a crappy childhood doesn't give license to do whatever you want. What's the deal?”

He smirked. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Besides, you talking to me or Danny? Cause last I checked, he does it.”

“Danny helps people.” Colleen pointed out.

Ward continued to smile in amusement. “Could have fooled me. So what are you up to these days besides playing superhero?”

Danny met his gaze solemnly. “It's a duty I've taken upon myself. I protect the people in this city. Daredevil helped me realize there was a lot of good I could do right here. If you showed more appreciation for others maybe-”

He was interrupted before he could finish the suggestion.

“You know, it's amazing that after everything, you still have that innocence.”

Grimacing, he glared at the other man. “What does _that_ mean?”

“That would be envy, not an insult. Wouldn't expect you to make the distinction.”

His attitude was bringing back memories of growing up in K'un-Lun. He was made to suppress every emotion as part of his training, toughen himself to brutal beatings, master concentration in any circumstance. In so many ways, Ward was incredibly different from him, and he was the same too.

Presently, his anger was getting the better of him. “If you supposedly came here to make peace, prove you're fine, then prove it. Explain trying to murder somebody, cause I haven't forgotten how you tried to have me killed on the street when I first came back to New York.”

Danny knew bringing up the past was useless and a tad childish. It wouldn't serve him any benefit except to make himself feel superior to Ward because he hadn't tried to murder the guy. He was guilty of wanting to kill several people in his own past, however, making his trying to cover it to wag a finger at someone else hypocritical. But as long as no one brought that up maybe he could succeed in the guy actually talking honestly.

By the sarcasm laden response he received, he hadn't entirely succeeded at his goal, but there was a glimmer.

“First of all, those guys were supposed to beat you up, scare you from showing up anymore. They tried to kill you when you fought back violently. Not what was supposed to happen. But-” He lifted a finger when his mouth opened to snap at his maddening tone and justification. “Let's recount the steps you did to reintroduce yourself back then, to two people you knew fifteen years ago when we were all a couple of kids.”

Colleen sighed. “This isn't helping.”

“Let the boys chat,” said Claire, seemingly disagreeing no progress was happening.

“You had me beaten up at the psychiatric hospital where you and Joy had me committed,” he protested in turn. “Pushed me off a building. Oh yeah, destroyed a file record of a childhood injury and nearly killed me and an innocent woman.”

Ward resumed the trend of tolerating what he had to say, indulging without ever taking him seriously.

“You showed up in my office claiming to be a dead friend, and nearly got violent. Then you broke into my sister's place, stole my car and me in it so you could 'talk'. Took my gun from me, put it against my head, and said 'bang!' Followed by crashing us into a barrier in a fit of rage.”

He felt such an urge to interrupt and complain over his attempt to explain everything he did as excusable. But he forced himself to listen and try to seem calm. His friends were listening intently, and that was never good when it came to women in his experience.

“At the time, all I knew was somebody crazy, whether the real Danny Rand or not, was messing up my order. When someone is breaking into your dad's penthouse, you push them out. Besides, when we saw it was you, we brought you inside. I was certain you were a crazy lunatic trying to hurt my family. Are you telling me you didn't maybe earn those reactions from me?”

Colleen placed her hand on Danny's shoulder and he turned partially to look at her.

“You are awful with people, Danny. Just awful.”

She sounded mortified.

“I can't believe you're siding with him. He tried to kill me!”

He knew they weren't exactly siding against him, but he remained indignant nonetheless.

Claire twisted in her chair, semi-amused smile coming over her face. “'Bang', Danny? Really?”

“I was being met with hostility by people who used to be my family. I was upset.”

Now she laughed. “No kidding.”

No way would he be admitting he was in the wrong. He didn't try to kill the guy. Maybe he didn't handle the “coming back from the dead” situation the best, but that was going on two years into the past. It was history. He wanting to be looking forward.

His arms folded across his chest. How to handle this... He was accommodating them, nothing more. Ward really did come to see him just to tell them to stay out of his business. Unacceptable.

“Look, I am sorry about doing that,” the seated man admitted, turning his chair to directly face Danny. “Those security guys were Harold's choice and he's had them, uh, take care of people before. I went along with what he told me, tried to do what I thought he would want me to do. If I didn't have to do the really bad stuff myself, I kinda felt like I wasn't actually responsible. My conscience would be clear or whatever. It wasn't right how I treated you, avoiding the guilt never worked either, and I am truly sorry.”

Silence. Huh? Where did that come from? He was becoming increasingly aggravated by these bouts of honesty mixed with constant lying and derision. He felt the urge to scream at him.

“Just tell me!”

Or maybe more than an urge... He eyed the reaction of the man he'd screamed at, bracing for nothing nice in return. Ward didn't seem mad or scared. He looked like he'd expected it to happen eventually, shaking his head morosely.

“If only life were simple like that.”

The women were exchanging glances, communication passing wordlessly between them. Danny's arms fell away from his chest. He was really thinking now, scrounging through those recently recollected memories of his return to the city from K'un-Lun. The one Ward mentioned of the encounter in his car stuck to the forefront.

“'You don't know anything about me'. It's what you said to me in your car, and it's still true now I think. Because you feel like a stranger, Ward. You're hiding yourself from me and won't let me in. What's going on?”

Intuition was telling him the man himself was what he needed to learn about instead of focusing on and criticizing any criminal actions he might be involved in.

Mirth grew into his face and into his voice as he replied, “You want a truth? I'm hungry. Wanna order some food?”

Danny was surprised when Colleen interjected before he could tell him not to change the subject, “I could eat.”

“Alright,” uttered Claire with a sigh, standing up. “I'll order Chinese.”

“Actually, I'm feeling like Italian,” the man mentioned, enjoying his proposition was shared.

Walking away to make the call in the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder. “Fine. I'll order pizza.”

“I meant-”

She called back, “I know what you meant, but I'm ordering pizza cause I'm paying.”

Ward shrugged and settled into the chair. Silence once again settled over the room and while he was feeling a little tense and uncertain, their visitor appeared relaxed. He supposed that was sort of a win. The guy could really be uptight and impatient. This was an encouraging change. At least he thought so.

His eyes were studying the room with renewed interest. Colleen took Claire's chair to sit at the table by Ward and so he took a seated position on the floor, leaning his back against a wooden support column. He watched him investigate the room, waiting for him to be the one to break the quiet. And he did.

A keen gaze fell on the rack of katana training swords next to him.

“These are Japanese, right?”

Colleen nodded. “That's right.”

“A society housing a noble warrior system for a long time. What was it the samurai called it?”

“Oh, you mean their code? Bushido. I try to follow it. Bushido is to maintain loyalty, courage, truthfulness, compassion, and honor. There's a great appreciation and respect for life.”

He sniggered, placing a hand on his mouth as though to wipe it away and stopped, but his eyes were still alight with hilarity, a rebuff of her explanation on his tongue.

“Rather ironic when the samurai were trained to kill their opponents.”

She looked at him, indignant. “It's more complicated than that.”

“No it isn't,” he retorted. “You train to use a sword, you're using a weapon designed to kill.”

Now Danny was being given the looks of why is he here, this is pointless, do something or get him out condemnations. She wanted him to act. He didn't even know what he was supposed to say. While he was seeking a method of driving them into their suspicions of his criminal nature, he astonishingly fixed the rudeness by revealing genuine interest in what he'd mocked seconds earlier.

“I think a code is a good thing to live by. I've never really had a code of my own, something to adhere to that wasn't from Dad.”

“Pizza will be here in fifteen. I ordered from the place around the corner.” Claire stopped halfway into closing the door after coming back in the room, viewing the humorless atmosphere. “Did I miss something?”

“You can use that to remember how to do the right thing.” Danny tried, grasping for wise words to express he didn't need to be doing anything illegal. “For example, how not to be a greedy bastard who kills without regard for life.”

Okay, so it wasn't exactly wisdom he'd just spewed. He was terrible at dancing around a topic. Typically his approach was to go into things headfirst, think about specifics at a later moment. Matt was better at making things sound elevated and dignified.

Claire finished closing the door and came to rejoin them, plopping down on the floor beside Danny. She had some psychological training as a nurse and went straight to the point of putting the skill to use.

“You're having trouble letting go of the things your dad taught you,” she guessed.

Ward stared at the floor. “Harold will always stay with me.”

“Which as Danny said, can be a positive. A guidebook of what not to do isn't the worst idea.”

A humorless smirk grew on his lips, not quite touching his eyes. “I don't like how things are in my life. I'm really having a rough time. But I can't change the way they are.”

Everyone became a lot more alert at his disclosure. So he didn't want to do illegal things. He didn't have to then. If he was doing them anyway, there must be more to the situation.

“I have to make tough choices,” he expounded, brief but revealing.

The nurse utilizing her psych understanding, worked to discern him further. “Life can suck but personal choices make every difference.”

He picked his eyes up from the floor. “I lack personal choice.”

While they puzzled over his meaning, the brooding man sought an answer elsewhere. “You were stuck between your past and your present once, Ms. Wing.”

“Are we still doing that? It's Colleen.”

Whether he'd heard her preference or not, he went on with his thought. “How did you decide against Bakuto? How'd you get away from his reach?”

Surprise filtered and dissipated from her expression, trained composure replacing emotion.

“The deciding part was simple,” she professed. “I could see he was wrong about Danny. I _knew_ he was. So I knew it was the right choice to turn against Bakuto and my old life, no matter what happened to me.”

He didn't seem satisfied by her answer, asking, “But what if it's not you, and others are affected?”

She grew pensive, reflecting on his remarks and searching for what to say. It seemed Danny wasn't the only one left recalling times he'd thought were long in the past by now. What she selected to use in her answer directly fell to the very first moment she met Ward.

“When you came here to my dojo, trying to get me to tell you what the guy who thought he was Danny Rand said to me, to convince me I should say he was a danger to others, that was your dad, yeah?”

Reluctant reply slipped out. “Yeah.”

“Is this your dad now? Why you're here I mean.”

He looked away to eye Danny.

“Harold.. He's-”

“Hello? Somebody order a pizza?”

Ward's mouth clamped shut as they were distracted by the deliveryman.

/

_WEDNESDAY, EARLY AFTERNOON-FOUR WEEKS, ONE DAY SINCE **TUESDAY**_

_“Mr. Meachum? Got a few minutes?”_

_Ward glanced up from his tasteless lunch. The woman in the sleek business suit was maybe fifteen years his senior and in fabulous shape. Her dark brown hair was cut at the chin line, side bangs hanging to the right kept neat. She appeared professional and severe outwardly._

_“Of course. Please, have a seat.”_

_He tossed the fork onto the half-eaten meal, taking a moment to consider his visitor. On occasion he would interact with this employee. She worked on another floor in the legal department but was basically running the show down there and she also took charge of public relations when necessary. Highly competent, she could spin any story or lie a story into existence to make the company look good._

_“What can I do for you, Ms. Monroe? Is there a legal issue I should know about?”_

_She sat, crossing her legs but keeping her upper body straight. Bright eyes fixated on him in a carefully calculated and poised manner._

_“This is concerning something personal actually.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“I thought maybe we could discuss your situation of late.”_

_Her fingers fidgeted ever so slightly, betraying that there was uncertainty behind the confident exterior. It was the only reason he didn't immediately panic at her words. If she was yet another one of them somehow, a Trojan horse, he doubted she would be nervous. That didn't mean he was right, so he regarded her guardedly and left it open for her to say more._

_Self-assurance came over her face and she met his blank gaze. “Don't bother with denial. You're hurting and depressed. I've seen it in you for years, but it's worse now. The last few weeks, it's as though you've been walking around this building in a haze, lost.”_

_Ward looked at her in surprise. Perceptive and out of left field. He was puzzled as to why she was bringing it up. Everyone else just ignored it, too busy with their own issues and lives. Besides, he was a billionaire CEO, what did he have to be depressed about?_

_“When Harold Meachum showed up in this building alive and well after fifteen years, everyone was floored. It was shocking he would fake his death. And then to be murdered by an employee upset over the fraud the same day... We can't even begin to imagine how you must have felt.”_

_He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to smirk. It had been amusing to read the papers telling the story of some random, disgruntled employee shooting Harold Meachum to death. Not all lies. An extremely upset employee did kill the bastard. The best lie always used a version of truth._

_“Ms. Meachum leaving the company in the wake of it, and so soon after losing another important board member too.. Piled on top of a helluva pressure cooker job, I know life isn't always easy for you.”_

_“Yes, it was a confusing time for all of us,” he ventured, trying to figure on what she was heading toward._

_A soft smile appeared. “Look, you act like an adult, all grown up. But let's remember, you're barely over thirty.”_

_Ward frowned at her, wondering if she was telling him he couldn't or shouldn't be doing this job. She wouldn't be the first to believe he didn't deserve it, no matter how well the company was doing. He refused to want validation from anyone after what seeking it from his father had reduced of his will._

_“That's not a knock,” she added, lending assurance in his leadership. “Just an objective fact. You're a kid. One who never really got to be a kid. You're presently in that lucky and god-awful stage where you get to be an adult, but don't feel like you're quite there yet.”_

_He still didn't understand where the direction of this dialogue was going. “Ms. Monroe, if there's a problem-”_

_She interrupted before he could say more than that. “Don't misunderstand me. You're doing an excellent job here and you don't need me to tell you.”_

_But there was something she did think he had to be told, or she wouldn't be sitting in his office. He had to admit he was startled to hear this from her of anyone. This was new to see her edges soften, an authentic and rounded personality shining through. If he had to liken her to another professional lawyer he knew, it would be Jeri Hogarth. Both of these ladies didn't seem to have the time for emotions or anything not strictly related to the end they sought to accomplish._

_“I blame it on the mom in me,” she revealed, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I've got two kids. Parents are supposed to look out for their kids, be a comfort just by being there. Sorry, what I'm saying here is, I will make myself available to talk if you ever want to. If there's some work you need taken off your hands to ease the load, I can do that too.”_

_Continuing to be confused and startled, he uttered, “Why?”_

_It felt like it came out more harsh than he meant, so he added in a gentler voice, “Why would you offer? Surely you are overloaded with work yourself. You couldn't possibly have the time.”_

_The woman shrugged. “You make the time if it's something you deem worth it. Cause sometimes in life, we just make it up as we go, and there's nothing wrong with that.”_

_Rendered speechless, he sat and she watched him. When it became apparent he wasn't going to be providing any revelations or useful responses, she stood. Automatically, he stood too, thinking it was the cordial and proper thing to do._

_Giving him a warm smile, she stepped around her chair. “If it's not completely inappropriate, I'm going to hug you now.”_

_“You're gonna what?”_

_“I don't normally do this so don't go spreading it everywhere that deep down Nina Monroe is a softy, yeah?”_

_Ward blinked slowly, he turned to look at her as she came round to his side of the desk. She gave him a moment to interpret the contact would happen and then he was in an embrace. A gentle, warm, comforting one. He couldn't recall the last time that happened. Joy?_

_Finally, he put his own arms respectfully around her, returning the hug. When she pulled away, he was blinking back tears, hoping there wasn't tell-tale redness giving his emotional state away. If she saw anything, she pretended not to, and placed her palm lightly to cup his cheek._

_“Try smiling a little more?” she suggested, a hint of a laugh in her words. “It looks like it hurts you when you do. And your real smile, it's very nice.”_

_She lowered her hand and squeezed his shoulder once, reassuringly. Walking to the door, she turned back._

_“One last thing.”_

_He cleared his throat, totally not on the verge of crying, and made himself look at her. For the time being, he was in control._

_“Call me Nina, if you like,” she offered. “Too many people call me Ms. Monroe.”_

_“Okay..” Ward was taken aback a bit by the request. Nothing had occurred that he remotely thought would occur in this impromptu meeting. “I'll be sure to do that.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_He watched her go, trying to lessen the bewildered stare he knew he was casting her way. But broke it only when she shouted back one final thing._

_“Smile more!”_

_A smile broke out across his face. Who knew a tiny bit of human decency could do that? Someone cared. It mattered._

/

“You people need to accept I'm okay and leave me alone!”

They had a perfectly nice meal, spent the following hour or so talking about menial things like music, and then descended into an argument. It was his fault naturally. He pushed a final time concerning Ward's attempt to kill somebody out of nowhere, trying to utilize the positive energy.

Claire was simmering within her fear and anxiety for Luke's condition and he could sense it. Her hidden bother affected him and he was trying to help when he asked Ward if he would admit any wrongdoings that might have been going on with the company. It ruined the comradery burgeoning amongst them.

“You are obviously up to something bad and we're not willing to let it go on, whatever it is.” Claire attempted to explain and console.

Fed up by Ward's attempt to push past him out the door for a third time, he was shocked when Colleen stepped up and shoved him from behind. Eyes widening, the man turned around to look at her like she'd lost her mind. Their eyes locked together.

“I tried to tell you, I have to return to work. I'm already late and that's not good. I have to leave.”

He felt the anger bubbling up inside her, reflecting in her eyes. Oh no.. Would she..?

“This must be very important to you,” she affirmed, loud and clear.

Then she delivered a knockout blow beneath the chin, his head snapping back. He dropped heavy and Danny only just managed to dive forward and catch him. Carefully, he lowered him gently to the floor before straightening up to confront his violent girlfriend. Claire beat him to it.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

Danny stared at Ward's unconscious form lying flat on the floor. A billionaire CEO in the middle of a workday failing to return to work would not go unmissed.

“He was keeping up appearances, lying to us. I was just-well, we make him tell us what he's up to.”

Claire's face screwed up in frustration and annoyance. “Not like this we don't.”

Colleen peered downward. “A little late for that.”

“What happened?” a new voice demanded.

A man with hair cut close to the scalp in a nice suit had his head poking through the doorway to where he'd instantly noticed the man on the floor.

“Mr. Meachum!”

He hurried to his side and felt for a pulse. The man was also likely a bodyguard. There was a gun briefly revealed when he moved to sling one of Ward's arms around his shoulders, lifting him from the ground. Danny watched him slumped against the man's side and concluded the lying was through. He was tired of the dishonesty.

“Please inform my partner that I expect full disclosure in matters concerning my company. Set a meeting for tomorrow morning. I won't take no for an answer and I expect at this meeting to receive an update on the current business practices of Rand Enterprises.”

Frowning at him, and then the two women in turn, he registered their behavior and attitude incredulously.

“You hit him because he didn't want to talk classified information in a public setting? Are you crazy?”

“I did the hitting,” Colleen confessed. “So if he wants to press assault charges I'll be right here.”

The employee glared at them with great hostility. “You'll have your meeting, but leave the hothead at home. Mr. Meachum will of course lay out anything you wish to know about your shared company, Mr. Rand. This was entirely unnecessary and unprofessional.”

Although he didn't feel like it, he forced a pleasant smile and accepted terms with a smug, “Approved. Thank you.”


	12. Chapter 11: In the Dark

_**“Live in service of the Hand or die in the dark.”** _   
_**-Harold Meachum** _

_MONDAY, EVENING_

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you?” Frank demanded in turn.

“I asked first.”

“Well I asked second,” the man persisted.

“That's not how it works.”

The other was quick to voice his irritation caused by his presence. “I thought we had an understanding.”

“That you're a murderous asshole? Yeah, I got that.”

“Says the devil.”

Matt sighed impatiently. “Not _the_ Devil. A devil-to all the ones who would harm others.”

“Oh geez, I'm sorry. How awful of me, eh, Red?”

The often lawyer by day, vigilante by night glanced at the house looming in front of them. He could feel out the size of it, gather there was a single occupant at present. It was stupid to be here in his regular attire, pretending to be a lawyer that somehow had legal matters to discuss with a billionaire. He wasn't entirely certain this persona would go over any better than if he would show up as Daredevil.

“You gonna go in?” asked Frank.

“Are you?” he returned.

“Maybe. I was gonna get a feel for the layout first.”

“What for? This is a house, not a heavily guarded criminal enterprise.”

“He's got billions. Who knows what kind of security he's got.”

“From what I can tell, it's the extremely wealthy who don't bother with a lot of precautions,” he theorized, remembering something he'd read. “Apparently if you have millions you might be at risk, but billions puts you farther from any criminals who might get ideas of making a profit. It's like some kind of bizarre myth says people that wealthy are untouchable, not worth the consequences resulting from the crime.”

“Whatever. It's all just too much money to me. Millions, billions.. Who needs all that? Nobody. Greed makes people think they need things they don't or shouldn't have.”

A quiet followed save for the typical sounds of traffic and people moving to and fro on the streets nearby. After a moment, he could feel Frank's gaze upon him.

“Why'd you come?” he solicited.

Matt continued to stare straight ahead, eyes wavering a bit while he considered how to answer.

“I told Danny Rand that Ward Meachum came to see you, wanting someone dead.”

The other man snorted. “Boy scout.”

“I didn't tell him about his fear or my suspicion that there's more going on,” he confessed.

Danny probably figured there was something else going on if his business partner was out seeking a hit man. They had history. This wasn't the first time Ward Meachum conducted himself in a reproachable manner in private.

But he sensed a peculiar nature revolving around the man in the warehouse a few days before and didn't mention anything to Danny. Partly because he wasn't sure about it, and partly because he kind of wanted to investigate on his own prior to making judgement calls. Get a sense of things so to speak.

He could feel attention on him. “Why keep it to yourself?”

“His fear. It..affected me. I wanted to know for myself first.”

“In case you were wrong,” Frank guessed.

“I'm not wrong.”

“But you're playing it safe,” the violent vigilante pointed out knowingly.

Maybe he _did_ overplay his hand and get too involved sometimes. What so thoroughly convinced him to come all the way to the man's house, risk his identity? The vulnerability he exhibited. He was a sucker for helping a soul crying out.

He sighed again. “Why don't you tell me why _you're_ here, Frank?”

“Might take a job.”

He caught the bullshit in his voice. “No you're not.”

“Nah, well, never know,” he posited. “Guys that need doing in pop up like weeds when you least expect it.”

“Frank...” he addressed, a hint of warning in his tone.

He heard his heavy steps moving away, heading for the front door.

“Kid seemed scared. You got that right. Consider my curiosity aroused. Come on, we'll use our words."

The doorbell was rung, echoing throughout the interior. No one came to the door. He listened and could hear footsteps of a single individual, likely a man, walking around in a far room. The footsteps were not moving toward the door.

He was addressed while they waited. “Sure you wanna be using your real name?”

He'd weighed the idea beforehand and so his answer was ready. “It's unlikely anyone living around here is going to think much of anything about some lawyer from Hell's Kitchen.”

He looked sideways at the other man. “What about the infamous Frank Castle? What if he recognizes you from the news?”

A low laugh, amused. “Nah. It's old news. Everybody forgets.” He immediately switched to the matter at hand. “Maybe nobody's home. Break in?”

“Someone's in there,” he mentioned.

Frank rang the bell a second time and knocked loudly a few seconds afterward. Listening, he heard the walking cease. The person was standing completely motionless. Then, the footsteps were approaching the front door.

“He's coming,” he told him. “Be cool.”

“I'm always cool, Red.”

His eyes rolled. He straightened, attempting to look professional and prepared for this potentially imprudent house call. The hand fell away from his tie right as the door opened.

It wasn't Ward. This was a stranger to him. Although he did smell traces of the man from the warehouse on the man standing in the doorway. A house guest perhaps would account for the trace.

“Oh, you're not who we're looking for. Is Mr. Meachum at home?” he asked politely.

Generally, people would get unnerved if he came out and revealed he knew nobody else was in the house. His fine-tuned senses were..unnatural to the rest of ordinary society. The normal either didn't believe it or were caught incredulous by what he was capable of doing as a “blind guy”. Therefore he hid it to put others at ease.

The man's reply came smooth and equally polite. “He's still at the office working late. May I ask what this is about?”

His lie slipped off the tongue. “I'm a lawyer who has been working a minor case for a few months. Mr. Meachum set an appointment to discuss the matter tonight. Maybe he forgot. He's probably very busy I imagine.”

He'd tacked on the last bit with the forgetting. Matt was picking up that something was wrong. This man didn't believe him and was presently gaining a new wariness at their presence. No need to sound the guard if it wasn't necessary. He should be able to defuse this momentarily.

“Ward hired a cheap lawyer? What for? Rand has plenty of top-notch attorneys at his beck and call.”

He squinted and frowned, removing his tinted shades to blatantly showcase the blindness factor. “I could have gotten the date mixed up. I'm sorry for the trouble. Possibly it was my mistake. We'll go and try back another time.”

A pause, hesitation. There it was. The requirement many people felt that they had to be extra kind to the crippled. He didn't remotely hear guilt or pity, but a stiffening in his demeanor as though he remembered it was required to have manners now.

“Gentlemen, you came all this way. I don't know if Ward will be home anytime soon, but do come in for a drink.”

“How nice of you. Thank you.”

The man stepped back to make room for them to come inside. Shutting the door behind them, he turned in their direction and offered bourbon. They both accepted and the man led them into a sitting room. Once they were seated on one of the couches, he moved away to the other side of the room to prepare the drinks.

“So what firm are you two with?” he called.

Matt listened to the clinking of glasses and ice for a moment before responding, only raising his voice slightly to compensate for the distance. “On my own for now. I have some personal knowledge on a drug trial and we've been meaning to swap notes. Granted, this started some time ago and isn't top priority for Rand Enterprises. I should have double-checked the date.”

“My-” a hitch as he stopped and began speaking again. “My friend is very organized and a complete professional. I'm sure if there was a miscommunication it was an honest mistake on his part.”

Interesting. The man shifted the blame to Ward Meachum without hesitation. Resentment toward a more successful individual?

“You said you were a friend of Mr. Meachum's?”

“That's right. An old family friend visiting for a while.” Amusement colored his tone as he added, “I have yet to introduce myself. My apologies. Name's Frank Stein.”

He didn't mean it. The apology. A strange thing to be insincere about. Then again, Matt was reading a lot of disingenuous behavior off this man. He was fairly certain he had an angle for inviting them in, for instance. It sounded like he was looking to pry.

A shift near him on the couch to his left distracted his attention. He frowned, inclining his head toward Frank.

“Are you armed?”

“Ask a serious question.”

“Just..” His ears picked up the man returning, carrying a small tray with their drinks. “Don't do anything..rash.”

“Uh huh.”

Not reassuring in the least, he leveled a look in his direction before focusing on their host standing in front of them. He heard Frank accept a glass from the man, smelt the bourbon and could tell it was the expensive kind. Then he sensed his own glass was being held out to him and he reached forward tentatively, pretending he had to be careful not to miss it.

“Thank you.” He took a small sip and then vacantly stared ahead, waiting until the man was sitting in a nearby chair to speak further. “So Mr. Stein, do you live in New York?”

“For now,” the man answered simply. “As I said, I'm visiting for a while. Ward has struggled with his sister leaving the company and the city. Misses her terribly. Poor thing is so lost.”

Thing? Seemed patronizing a little. He was an older man than Ward by maybe ten years. Could be a better friend of other relatives staying around the house out of obligation. He was fairly confident the sister was the only blood relation he had left.

“I didn't get your name,” the man noted. And who's your associate?”

Unprepared for the question concerning his “associate”, Matt hesitated and glanced in Frank's direction. He wasn't talking yet and he prayed the guy had the sense to appear disarming. The man was certainly capable of it.

“My name's Matthew Murdock. My associate does consulting for lawsuits on occasion,” he made up.

Frank chose to speak for himself by explaining his supposed job in more detail. “I specialize in waste management. Really hell-bent on exterminating the rodents and pests in this city.”

Matt breathed in and out slowly. Rather heavy-handed there. If their host had even the vaguest inkling of a certain vigilante...

“Do I know you from somewhere?” the man asked of Frank.

“No,” was the blunt retort. “Name's Pete..Smith.”

He could feel Mr. Stein studying the form of the man beside him closely. “You look familiar Pete Smith.”

A brief moment of awkward staring and Matt swooped in to be the distraction.

“What is it you do, Mr. Stein? If you don't mind me asking.”

“I'm more interested in what you and your friend do. This job you're doing for Ward, it wouldn't be off the books now would it? Less than legitimate?”

His eyes flickered at the investment he was taking in something that couldn't possibly concern a visiting friend from out of town. He sipped from his drink, listened to Frank have a big gulp of his own glass, buying time. He decided to see where it went without revealing too much.

Matt smiled and shrugged his shoulders just a bit. “There's been nothing made official yet. We weren't sure if the lawsuit would amount to anything. Devastated family who lost someone on a testing drug, suing, since it was a voluntary trial...”

“Not a leg to stand on,” the man finished, smiling. “These types of cretins often crawl in from off the streets looking for a handout. Nothing to waste time on really. Although I suppose you can afford the time..”

It unsettled him the flippant and denigrating manner in which he referred to everyday people Matt was inferring were searching for closure. Rarely folks went through the arduous and expensive nature of a trial if they were wanting a large payout.

“Err.. Yes, I suppose. There is the possibility of negligence on the part of doctors administering the drugs.”

He was making all of this story up on the spot and this recent element was to examine what reaction came of it. Somehow he wasn't surprised by what he got. The man replied leisurely, drinking and resting comfortably in his seat.

“Haven't met a lawyer yet who was completely ethical. You won't be the first.”

“Excuse me?”

Stein was intent on him, not the case. “Blind, huh? That tough for you?”

Where did the politically correct, excessively gracious treatment go from when he invited them into the house? It was a curve ball. One that had him suspecting he'd misread the man. It wasn't always so easy identifying motivations even with incredibly powerful senses.

“Got a problem, mister?”

The man's attention shifted toward Frank. “No, not at all. I'm merely expressing perfectly natural curiosity. I don't see the point of hiding behind pretext when it's unnecessary, do you agree?”

“I'd agree,” Frank said, “Except I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Don't you?” the man asked, false surprise in his voice. “Ward doesn't hire an off the books lawyer and I don't know it. He's a sharp kid. He does what I tell him, when I tell him. He has a bright future and I don't need a couple of nosy legal consultants impeding it over an insignificant affair.”

The gall of this man was incredible. He'd clearly invited them in to investigate and get in their business yet he was calling them the nosy ones. Also, acting like he was claiming ownership on a major CEO and the kind of subject matter he could be bothered to attend to. What was that?

“Isn't it possible you don't know your friend as well as you think you do?” Matt suggestively questioned.

“Not a chance.” Mr. Stein replied with great conviction. “I know every inch of him.”

Wow. The phrasing was strange. He was getting some seriously creepy vibes coming off this overbearing “family friend”. Who was he really? What was Ward Meachum doing with a guy like him?

“Time to go I think,” the man continued. “He recently acquired a very valuable client. Big stuff happening for Rand. He'll probably be working late into the night.”

Matt heard Frank finish off his drink at nearly the same moment their host did too. Paranoid now, he made his hand shake and dropped the glass onto the carpet. The man's attention went directly to the spill, disgust at the incident revealing in the altered pattern of his breathing.

He stood, apologizing and using his foot to nudge for the location of the glass. Of course he already knew where it was, but appearances, and he lifted the glass. When he announced he'd clean it up and they could show themselves out, retreating into the kitchen, Matt wiped the cup of prints.

Frank was watching what he was doing, wondering why.

“Wipe your prints, Frank. Neither of us were ever here.”

“You think he would check our prints?”

“I don't know what he would do and that bothers me.”

They set the glasses down on the table when they were finished and walked together to the door. He could sense Frank was feeling neutral over everything that had just transpired. From his point of view, it was probably nothing but another random guy who would rather be dishonest because why bother talking honest to strangers. Ward Meachum was as much a stranger to them as the man in the room, so why should they care?

His hand was on the door handle when he felt Mr. Stein standing between the kitchen and living room, observing them quietly. When he paused and Frank turned to look at the guy, Stein leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“You get it. I can tell.”

“Get what?” the irked Frank reluctantly prodded.

“You gentlemen understand what the world really is. It's messy, unfair. Humans are violent, repulsive, incomprehensible fits of an existence and then they're gone. We try to live with purpose, to not have been meaningless.”

Why was he sharing this odd confession? The man next to him expressed his irritation with another leading inquiry.

“What's your point?”

“There is no point,” came the answer immediately. “That's the point I suppose. You do what you must to substantiate the basis of your own existence.”

A peculiar silence fell between them, nobody moving or making a sound. The guy was obviously leading to something. Mr. Stein's contemplative demeanor switched to a cheerful and amicable version.

“Do either of you have kids?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They'd replied in sync and he glanced Frank's way at the response. He had two kids, once...

“Do you have children, Mr. Stein?”

He felt like it was the question he was supposed to be asking.

“I have a son and a daughter,” he voluntarily told them. “A father's first responsibility to their kids is to provide a beautiful lie for them to live in. If you fail at your responsibility, they leave you with only the memories of what should have been.”

/

_MONDAY, MORNING_

_“Why did you cooperate with their demands?”_

_Harold stood by one of the windows, sipping orange juice and for all relevant purposes, feeling content. He peered over at his son whose demeanor was radically different. Boredom and irritation were evident in his face and posture. It was morning and he would be heading off to work soon, but until Trevor arrived with the car he was stuck._

_“I'd rather deal with him than you,” he remarked._

_Presently, he had been pondering out loud mostly to himself as he so often did. He was well aware Ward was displeased at his visit for breakfast. Harold only moved out a couple days prior. He'd probably hoped not to see him for a week. Too bad. You can't always get what you prefer._

_“Liar,” he stated as fact. “If that were true, I'd already be dead. No, I think you know Bakuto, or Kuo, or whatever. I think you know he can't be trusted.”_

_“I'm not an idiot. I know that. But I don't trust you either.”_

_Ward rolled his eyes and reclined in the chair, letting the back of his head rest against the top. The regular waking hours he managed fine, and he would survive the lessons Harold took to giving him every night until moving out the other day, but there was a bit of a cold shine to his eyes. His boy was floundering on the inside and playing indifferent on the outside. If only he would have inherited his father's ability to detach from everything._

_Things were so much easier when life became a series of calculations and rewards._

_“Hm, you trust I would keep you alive, don't you? I won't let you die.”_

_The childish comeback returned quickly. “But hurt me, that's fine.”_

_He studied the slight redness around his eyes from a lack of sufficient sleep. Continuing to have trouble sleeping. He wished Ward would tell him how he managed to be convinced to obey but asking got him nowhere. Annoyance and flippant remarks were all he received._

_“I'm building character. Or would be if you weren't so stubborn. You're my legacy. You are so important to me.”_

_The boy's mind was wandering. His semi-anxious and tired look shifted into something more akin to feeling pleased. He couldn't read minds or anything, however, he was getting the distinct impression his son was thinking on him. Ward already made the error of mentioning aloud how he felt a small degree of pleasure that he didn't have a life even if he was still technically alive. Said it to his face during the third day he'd been moved into his son's house._

_He'd walked away to fill the kitchen sink with water before dragging the kid in front of it. Spent the next hour systematically partial drowning and saving him. When he finally gave him an opportunity to breathe enough to say actual words, he yielded. Although he, himself, would never apology for anything-a lesson picked up from his own father, his son sure would._

_Ward was so very afraid of him that night and succumbed to every one of his demands. He waited two days to request what he'd really been hungering from his kin, because the total submission left the boy in a bit of a dazed state. Not very enjoyable to exert authority over a shell of the person someone was. He'd waited and been rewarded. His son really should learn a thing or two from him._

_He also did what he did because Ward was right. He would never be the head of his company himself, known, and he was busy trying to force his son to learn lessons he refused to learn. It would seem here in New York, there was nowhere to go when you were supposed to be dead..._

_Instead he was picking at the remnants of a life that didn't quite fit together._

_He stepped away from the window and snapped his fingers in the seated man's face, startling him out of his reverie._

_“See? You don't listen. You wonder why I have to continue teaching you lessons-”_

_“Are you serious?” he interrupted, glowering at him. “Just stop. I don't need this.”_

_His turn to act a little childish. “Oh, did I hurt your precious feelings? You hurt me when you sided with Danny that night at the office.”_

_Scorn covered petulant features as he started looking his way, speaking dryly. “You sure it wasn't the 45 story drop?”_

_Immediate anger arose, clawing to break out and have a reaction. That would do him no good if he let it happen. This visit was to ensure his son understood his role and filial responsibilities._

_He crushed his nails into his palm for a brief moment and then released, lowering his now relaxed hand._

_“You robbed me of my one opportunity to run my company again,” he declared simply, walking over to sit on the couch across from Ward. “Loyal son and daughter at my side.”_

_“You're delusional,” he bitingly asserted._

_His mind was dangerously close to releasing his indignation in violent form. “That's not nice, Ward.”_

_The young man exploded. “You're not nice!”_

_Harold deliberated on his vexation. He could identify the confusion he was feeling along with the irritation and anger. It was possible he was buying into Kuo's philosophy and perceptions. If he was capable of swaying his child from his rigid stances to get him to do as he wished, however temporarily that might last, a man claiming to preach peace and wholeness certainly might be able to as well._

_He put on his best receptive look. “We cooperate for the time being. Once they trust you enough, we can make our move.”_

_“Dad..?”_

_Ward settled worried eyes to his, needing. The man didn't have anyone to talk to other than the two forces which sought to use him. He would be made into something he was not. It just came down to choosing who he would allow to do the sculpting. And it would be him, Harold believed palpably. Whatever he did to his son, the boy always returned again. He was his father._

_“I've heard you will go to see Danny Rand today. Get him and his pesky friends to remove them as an issue.”_

_He averted his gaze and stared at the floor. Harold knew he would do that whenever he was ashamed or upset on a higher than usual level. Eye contact was a difficult thing to uphold when you had secrets._

_“Danny would be furious if he knew you were alive. You killed his parents.”_

_Hmm... Ashamed of his dad? Upset with decisions he made? Nothing new. He would come home in the end._

_Waving it off, he vindicated himself quickly to move the conversation along. “Oh that was years ago. Besides, I've killed lots of people. And he won't know about me. He'll do it for you, because you ask him to.”_

_Possibly miscalculated, overexposing his insensitivity and merciless inclinations. His son was looking at him again, but not in a positive way. He appeared extremely unhappy remembering the body count. Harold refused to be overly concerned. Ward had been properly isolated by his new handler, and his actual one, his own father, would not be disheartened by the mixed allegiances revolving around his head._

_“I want away from you.”_

_He let out an expectant sigh. “Ward...”_

_“Kuo talks like a crazy person,” the other man described. “A new world he's gonna bring on or some shit. They want control of the company for a reason, and I don't think Rand Enterprises, or you or me are gonna factor into anything if they succeed.”_

_Perhaps his son's duplicitous behavior regarding him, would serve him well after all. There was only one person he hated putting on the mask for, and he could play that card now._

_“I may be forced to run my company from the shadows,” he admitted. “But I have my son. Together we'll convince Joy to come home.”_

_“Home? What a joke.”_

_He'd mixed some honesty in there. Whenever he feigned vulnerability, the child practically ate out of the palm of his hand. Harold had worked hard to instill a weakness he would forever be able to exploit._

_A reminder of the kind of person he expected his son to be to keep him on his toes couldn't hurt. “Mind your tongue.”_

_Ward released a frustrated noise, digging the bottoms of his hands into shut eyes._

_“I'm supposed to be making things good with Danny, yeah. But I'm not supposed to be recruiting him to go for Kuo's throat,” he indicated emphatically. “From what I've seen so far, there's something massive going on out there. They're rushing things through without a care it gets noticed. I shouldn't be helping them...”_

_He was back to making eye contact, seeking to be given some kind of resolution he liked. Compliment and command. Soon they would be able to better focus on more important matters, like bringing his family together to run the company as it always should have been. Just a few annoying rodents that needed flushing from the city._

_“Nonsense. You were smart agreeing to do what they ask. Puts you in the perfect position to handle this predicament.”_

_His son was the opposite of reassured, looking frustrated by his input. He didn't let it bother. Fantasies of stomping out his enemies were filtering through his thoughts, pleasing him. They played their cards right, and the last five weeks could feel like a bad dream for both of them. Even Ward would like that much to become actuality._

_“When everything's settled with these Heart people, then I'm going to kill Danny Rand for taking my family from me.”_

_The front door opened and Travis stepped inside, the barest of a reaction at seeing Harold showing on his face. But then he looked to Ward._

_“Ready to go?”_

_“Yes. Coming.”_

_Ward carefully stood up and checked his clothing was satisfactory. He dropped his head back to drain the last of his orange juice from the glass, eyes monitoring the other subtly. He wasn't quite certain where his son stood on the Danny Rand situation at present._

_Today would be enlightening whether Harold would have to play a slightly different set of cards to claim the same end results. Assuming he wasn't missing anything. For the time being he would wait for opportunity to present. This incomplete freedom business was on the verge of ending for good._

_He watched his son leaving out the front door and smiled warmly when he glanced back a brief moment, casting uncertainty in his direction. Doubts and misgivings would serve to be beneficial. His yearning for some of his old life regained left him imagining as he went into the kitchen for a glass of something stronger._

/

Following the bizarre statement about creating a lie of a world for children and grasping at memories if it didn't fool them, Mr. Stein disappeared into some other part of the house. It didn't seem as though he was intending to come back and they didn't wait around. They left and kept an eye on the place until they were well out of sight and at a busier block.

“You get a whole lot of bullshit coming outta that guy or what?”

Frank wasn't kidding. That was..a strange encounter. A man who spoke like a man but everything out of his mouth tweaked to be a bit off. It was disquieting what someone like that was doing in Ward Meachum's house.

“Oh, yeah. That man has an uncanny knack for slipping under your skin.”

“Think that's a new hitter he got instead of me?”

“I'm not sure what that was.”

“Well I don't give a shit either way,” Frank muttered, sounding annoyed. “Kid's got money to take care of his own problems. I'm outta here.”

The guy was walking away meaningfully. Maybe thinking the trip to this part of town was a monumental waste of time. He wasn't going to get overly involved either. He wasn't as much a bleeding heart as Frank liked to call him.

“Just another rich man trying to use money to solve his problems outside legal means,” concluded Matt noncommittally, concerning Ward Meachum.

As Frank was gaining ground farther away, he yelled out in addition, “It was nothing!”

But seeing as how he didn't believe himself, he unfolded his walking stick, selecting a new path. Karen could do some research on this. She would probably better know the big names in New York he couldn't be bothered to learn unless it affected his activities, legal or otherwise. The reporter wouldn't be super thrilled to have him ask, but it shouldn't be too much trouble to look into the Meachum history.

He was overreacting because the man's name was attached to Danny's and that was it. Making mountains out of nothing. Matt planned to do his due diligence tonight and then the whole thing would be in the past.


	13. Chapter 12: Except This...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for publishing a day late. I wasn't feeling the greatest yesterday. Please enjoy!

_**“You are a living weapon. Drive all other thoughts out of your mind except this...”** _  
_**-Lei Kung** _

_TUESDAY, MORNING-FIVE WEEKS SINCE **TUESDAY**_

“Let's not spend any more time than is necessary with each other, shall we?”

Danny didn't look surprised by the less than happy expression he was greeted with as he stepped from the elevator. Yesterday, Ward was punched out by Danny's ninja girlfriend and had a bruise the size of a quarter beneath his chin from the hit. His expression soured further once he noticed there were others with him.

“Who are your friends?”

The younger man looked cocky and pleased to introduce his company.

“This is my private investigator, Jessica Jones, and this is my lawyer, Matthew Murdock.”

He flushed at the harassment, not looking to greet either one, grinding down on his teeth. “For what purpose?”

Ward received a gentle smile. The man could be ridiculously infuriating by his demeanor alone. He just wanted to slap that face clear of any happiness.

“We've come into some new information and felt it prudent you be informed right away.”

He scoffed, unconcerned by the claim. “How thoughtful. But you already have a lawyer on retainer you're supposed to call. Jeri will be pissed if she finds out.”

“I know what I'm doing. Do you?”

His eyes rolled at the insinuation. He twisted on his heel before inviting them. “We've reserved the conference room. Mr. Patterson will sit in.”

“Fine by me,” the obnoxious man retorted.

He led them to the glass doors of the conference room and opened a door to allow them entry first. They went in ahead and he noted the lawyer, Murdock, was blind. He had a hand placed on Jessica's shoulder as a guide to where to walk. When the three of them took seats on one side of the table, Ward entered, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Marcus glanced cordially his way before sitting opposite of the other three. He came and sat one chair over from the man. He might be obedient like they wished now, but it didn't change the agony they forced on him prior to his acceptance of an alliance.

The man didn't look bothered by it or at least didn't show he was, and got straight to the matter at hand.

“These files will give you the gist of everything that's been happening in your absence, Mr. Rand.” Marcus shared. “An outline as it were. Please review them at your leisure and we'll be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

“Great. I'll do it right here.”

Danny grabbed the top file from the pile and flipped it open.

After a few moments, he couldn't resist and asked, “Do you even know what you're reading?”

His condescension was brushed aside by Marcus describing the information he was examining before there was time to see if he would coax a reaction.

“Be aware, there have been significant edits to keep things classified. You may have access to the information if you wish, but your associates-”

“A lawyer can be privy to certain details if they're relevant to my client,” Mr. Murdock said plainly.

Marcus gave him a nice, tolerating smile, though he couldn't see it. “Yes, but a PI is not afforded the same luxury.”

Ward scrutinized the woman. He didn't recognize her, but the name sounded like someone he should be remembering. He tried to think of why he would know the name and consistently came up empty.

The perusal of technical statistics and abbreviations Danny was not familiar with, lasted another couple of moments before he left it alone on the table. Honestly, he could watch him frown over documents much longer.

“This isn't what I need to be checking,” he said impatiently.

He didn't trust Ward, didn't care enough to visit him if it wasn't concerning his precious city. There was apparently no relationship to ruin. Yesterday evening, Kuo described how they hit him without provocation, didn't like him or respect him either. And frustratingly accurate, stressed how his driver was who was there to get him out safely. He knew the man was aiming to influence his mind, knew it was manipulation, but it was working anyway because he was right.

“I don't know how you managed to do it without penalty, but I tracked those money transfers. Millions of dollars sent to a dozen brand new accounts the other day. Companies I've never heard of mostly with non-specified purposes.” Danny exposed his proudly recovered facts. “One of them that claims to specialize in imports, received more than a hundred million dollars in a day. Who is Obaktu Enterprises? It's as though they sprang up overnight. This is exactly the shady stuff I was worried you were hiding.”

Ward suspected the lawyer was responsible for discovering that information by the furrowed brow glances Danny sent his direction before relaying the revelation. He resented these people on either side of him, cropping up to willingly lend him a hand when he asked. Were they in it for the money he could pay? They didn't really look it by their attire. The clothing was appropriate, nice, but miles below what someone like Danny Rand could afford them. No, these two actually wanted to help him.

He looked across the table, bored. “The board approved the transactions. It's all perfectly legal.”

His stunned confusion was enjoyable to watch. It was so very rare he had any real moments to feel empowered and autonomous. This meeting wasn't the worst idea as he'd worried when initially informed of its happening. It was even turning out to be an agreeable occasion.

“You would know that if you took a few minutes out of your day to check in on the company bearing your name,” he added, muzzling the spite somewhat to appease Marcus.

It only seemed to serve as a reminder to Danny as to what his intentions were in the first place.

“Why am I suspicious, you mean?” he demanded rhetorically. “Oh, let's see. How about how you've obviously been lying to me and this feels like a bad repeat of two years ago?”

He listened on confidently. Beside him, Marcus was puffed up in an equally complacent mood. Danny Rand had nothing but angry words and zero proof.

“It's the parents to blame for his inability to tell the truth,” the private investigator remarked without foundation. “He inherited the company from his father. I'll bet it was the father who made him like this.”

“His dad was a murdering bastard.” Danny indicated, expression hardening.

Ms. Jones had more opinion to rub salt in his wounds. “But I'll bet he did everything his dad wanted him to do and he got to have a secured future.”

His eyes flickered amongst the three of them, perplexed as to where they were going with this trivial discussion. Why did he feel like they were poking at him indirectly? If they were seeking to upset and get him to say something stupid or ill-advised, it wouldn't work.

“I doubt it's that simple,” the lawyer contended. “However, it does appear he was given a job that allows him a whole lot of power and money.”

Arrogance refused to let him be coaxed into responding immediately. He took his time, pretending to consider. All the while he maintained an air of amusement.

Kuo followed through and Harold moved out once he started making impossible property exchanges happen with the combined force of his money and Heart's intimidation. His dad was told he needed Ward focused and in a healthy state of mind. It left him with possibility.

He might one day earn the freedom he needed if he played along. It wasn't a hopeful life direction, but at least it was a kind of direction that didn't leave him despairing.

“Watch it, Danny. Don't want anyone see you throw a tantrum,” he said snidely.

The man next to him perked up and peered through the glass wall. Ward trailed his gaze to see Mikka Marks was passing by with a man he'd recently met. Dr. Thomas Oberman, wealthy historian and artifact dealer. He looked every bit the part with his thick framed glasses and bumbling, fast talking demeanor. He arrived this morning looking to secure property for his import/export business, that bore his last name, in the areas surrounding the city. In actuality, he came to be introduced to the company leader who was now his benefactor, and to advise him of the beliefs his organization upheld.

Watch Dog. The name was born from roots of a lengthy history in Europe apparently, but what did he care? He did what he was told or people would die for no reason.

Marcus pushed out his chair and rose. “If you would excuse me for a few minutes, I need to confer with a colleague.”

Ward followed his path to the door and out. He joined Mikka and Thomas as expected. Probably into some new nefarious plotting he didn't want to know if he wanted to keep lying to himself it was okay.

He reached for the glass of water in front of him he'd forgotten was there. His lips barely touched the rim when Danny leaned over the table to meet his eyes.

“You hid he was alive, _again_.”

His hand shook but he stilled it and continued the drinking motion in order to hide the nervous swallow. The conscious thoughts were shifting and streaming unbidden. Those whispers in his mind continuously telling him to find help, to run, to do whatever it took to get away from the danger unspoken...

He set the glass on the table top, asking innocently, “Who are we talking about?”

“Don't play dumb. Matt saw Harold in your house last night."

Ward knew it was too mean, but he said it anyway because that's what he did when he was especially messed up in the head. It was the automated defensive tactic his mind flipped to when he held guilt and wasn't thinking straight.

“The blind guy _saw_ a dead man? Yep, that's reliable.”

Danny's temper flared, severe stare glued to him. “Colleen and Claire are with Luke in the hospital. He's a friend. So if I find out you and Harold had anything to do with those weapons being brought into the city...”

“Too much time under the sun, Danny? You sound crazy to me. Perhaps I should call security.”

He reached inside his suit jacket, signifying he was reaching for his cell phone blatantly. He wouldn't take open threats like that. His fingers wrapped around his phone and then the lawyer's statement caused him pause.

“I can see you.”

Ms. Jones was looking over Danny at him, concerned. Did she think Mr. Murdock was saying too much? She appeared to be torn between shushing him quiet and hearing what he had to say. The man in the middle slumped in his chair, irked into silence.

“Your ambivalence confirms what I already suspected in that warehouse.”

His eyes got real wide. He was..Daredevil. He was.. But he was blind.

“Your father, he can be stopped, even if it's difficult for you to believe that.”

He risked a small turn in his chair, sweeping his gaze across the area outside the conference room. Marcus and Mikka were walking Thomas to the elevator, chatting amiably. He had to shut them up, shut this down, before they revealed their suspicions and got misery rained onto him for letting it happen. He'd utterly failed to convince Danny to go away.

“You don't know anything. Shut your mouth,” he warned harshly.

“He'll never have you if he can only rule through fear.”

“Fear is an exceptionally effective motivator.” Ward recited like he was reading it from a book.

“True. But fear breeds hate. Hate breeds violence. Say, irrational hatred for someone who threatens to make things worse for you without realizing it. Violent choices that come easier than they should. That's what happened between you and Danny two years ago, isn't it?”

“Is that why you think it's my father?”

It didn't seem like they had much other than that Harold was alive. He couldn't resist prodding with the question, not noticing he was revealing more than he knew. He noticed when Mr. Murdock tilted his head toward his associates and quietly informed them his heart rate had changed, indicating it was indeed his father and he was afraid.

He'd heard the rumors and stories of what the devil of Hell's Kitchen could do. Daredevil was a blind guy... What the hell...?

“Harold's alive, but it's not your father using Rand?” Danny interrogated, deeply confused and caught off guard by his accidental reveal.

The inclination to yell out the truth, beg to be saved was overwhelming. Ward would be hard pressed to admit when he needed help, but to know the freakin' Daredevil hero of New York City was sitting mere feet away changed his outlook significantly. That spark was churning inside again when a few days earlier he was certain it had gone out completely. Hope.

Marcus was coming back, strolling to the door. He had seconds to reach a decision. His kind of luck, he would probably end up suffering whatever he decided. There was only one side who hadn't intentionally tortured him though. And he didn't believe they would make him do bad things.

“Did we reach a consensus while I was away?” Marcus asked, tone optimistic.

He quickly glanced through the wall to locate Mikka and saw she remained by the elevators. The doors were opening. Trevor strode onto the floor, greeting her and then Megan with an endearing smile. He shrank away from the possibility of saying something, feeling the walls closing in.

His phone buzzed and he startled, forgetting he had one hand clutching it in his jacket pocket. Marcus returned to his seat as he removed the device and read the text message delivered straight from Kuo.

_New targets in process of selection. I'm taking care of things. Their interest will expire or the targets will._

Kuo was watching and listening to the surveillance in the room at this precise moment. Maybe his dad was right. He was a coward. He scratched at the skin beneath his wrist guard, on edge.

Ward pasted on a smug smile. “Blaming a dead man for your unresolved issues is beneath even you, Danny.”

/

“Running away from your problems isn't going to work out in the long run.” Danny expressed, exasperated at the backtracking.

It didn't take a man with heightened senses to see they were making progress until Ward read a message on his phone. He had to keep trying to speak openly and understandingly. If he got angry or irritated again, there wouldn't be a third chance to earn the truth from him.

“I've never been able to run away,” conceded Ward. “He always caught me.”

He strained to think what he could mean. Danny understood well enough it was Harold he tried to get away from, unless he was wrong about that. They as good as got him to admit his father somehow survived an incineration and he'd hidden it from them. But it seemed as though he was close to a second admission before he received the text message. There could be a different problem they just weren't seeing.

Jessica scoffed, not understanding his meaning either, and he realized a little too late he'd forgotten to pass on the message of not provoking him.

“Rich and entitled thinks he's above us,” she muttered before raising her voice. “Is your money supposed to assure us you've got the answers to save the world's problems too?”

“You can't _buy_ a better world!”

They were all of them surprised that set him off, even his associate. The room quieted, uncertainty reflecting from everyone except for Ward, who sounded full of conviction.

“Just because you want to help people doesn't mean you can. We live our lives choosing what will get us through a day, a year. The endless pursuit of happiness. That's human.”

He couldn't decipher if he was providing hints, perhaps of someone not quite human, which brought him to Harold again. Because it was just as possible Danny was reading into everything he said now, desperate to be finding excuses for why Ward would throw away his opportunity to restart his life and the company. It was nearly impossible to believe he would do what his father wanted him to do with the company anymore. Not after how wrong it all went two years ago.

“Why don't you talk to me, Ward?” he questioned. “You're losing your second chance if you corrupt Rand a second time.”

“You think I wouldn't give up everything I have for a start over? You think I haven't tried?”

He'd never seen it, just the mean, spiteful Ward. He missed things sometimes though, so his inclination now was not to doubt his declaration. Joy's replacement looked ready to fall asleep in his chair, cheek resting in the hand of the arm with an elbow on the table. He probably wasn't even listening to them. They were running around in circles talking over nothing substantial or of consequence to him, far as he was paid to be concerned.

“I helped you get your second chance. About a year and a half ago. You and me keeping Rand corruption free, running it how it should have been all along. That's how it was supposed to be.”

Ward laughed at him. “I wasn't supposed to be alone.”

He opened his mouth, then let it fall shut. What was he supposed to say? He abandoned him to learn to run the company without any friends or family, so he could figure his own meaning in life out. It was a duty necessary for him to complete, but that didn't make his choice wholly right either.

“When Dad was gone, it was time to finally figure who I really was. Time fixes things, right?” Ward delivered his supposition, definitely not desiring an actual spoken answer as he quickly went on. “Wrong. That's one of those BS things people say to make you feel better, make _them_ feel better. It's not true.”

Danny nabbed fast looks at his friends, who were listening and sympathizing. Or at least Jessica was. Matt sat stiffly in his chair, paying special attention to the inattentive and half asleep Joy replacement.

“Time doesn't change anything. Eighteen months on and I found myself back where I started.” Ward dispensed despondently. “Five weeks later and I know nothing will be okay.”

“Action is what changes things,” he explicated the present depression being described, searching to be profound to get him to hear him. “You once said to me, 'with your dad gone, who would you blame for your unhappiness?' You don't blame anyone. No matter what's going on, you do what's right and refuse to bother with hate. Refuse to let any one thing define you. I get you, Ward. You are not the spoiled, entitled, rich kid asshole plenty of people see you as. It's a front. A company man identity. It's not the real you, is it?”

“Oh, cause you're the poster boy for emotional stability?” he snarked, looking insulted.

“I'm trying. And I thought you were too.”

“Take the files to your office if you like, but I think we're finished here.” Ward insisted. “Your accusations are grounded in personal interest and have no legal basis.”

His associate, Mr. Patterson, had both eyes wide open, no trace of sleepiness anywhere. He garnered attention from them as he shuffled the folders into a neat pile, standing afterward, waiting for the three of them to leave.

He refocused on his reason for being here, and pushed his chances. “I need you to again.”

“Wait, what?” Ward uttered, confused. But there was clear avoidance to look at him, writing him off.

“Try,” he requested as a last ditch effort to persuade. “The right thing. Be honest. I won't leave you alone.”

Mr. Patterson eyed him, plainly impatient to end the meeting. He dutifully awaited Ward to dismiss them as ranking employee, however, or he just wanted them to exit first. The man in question was staring at his hands.

He placed them in his lap after a moment, jerked his head up, and sought eye contact with Danny.

“Help me,” he spoke, so low and soft it almost couldn't count as a whisper.

Matt stood so fast from his seat it jarred him and Jessica to mimic without knowing fully why. On the other side of the table, Patterson sat appearing downhearted. He leaned into the backing of his chair and sighed loud and drawn out.

The behavior was sufficient for him to ultimately comprehend the withdrawn and belligerent nature of Ward's participation today. He had his reason and he was sitting right next to their accused.

“Who are you?” Matt challenged before he could do it.

“Ward,” the man attempted and it likely had the opposite result he was anticipating.

He stood from his chair, agitated. “They showed up five weeks ago with Harold. They won't let me go.”

The air itself felt charged, the precipitating violence feeling inevitable. Danny spotted the company hanging around the elevators and suspected they weren't who they appeared to be either. Mostly because they were staring into the conference room looking unusually tense, Megan seated at her desk monitoring them uncomfortably.

A fight was imminent in breaking out and he started to prepare himself, but surprisingly, Ward defused the possibility.

“You jeopardize Rand Enterprise's ability to function if you turn this place into a crime scene. Publicity is the enemy for the end game at this stage, isn't it?”

Patterson glowered at him and managed to slip great enmity into a simple comment for Ward. “Master will be most unhappy.”

Matt approached the skittish man and gripped his forearm lightly. “We need to go.”

“I think they know who you are,” he divulged, shifting restlessly in place. “I think I do now too.”

As Danny went for the door and let the three of them move to call the elevator, he kept his eyes peeled for any resistance. It seemed Ward had in fact convinced them not to expose themselves to the rest of the employees. The woman in an attractive dress and Ward's driver from yesterday stood in front of Megan's desk, silently awaiting their departure. They were highly alert and stood in such a way he could identify they were trained fighters. How deep did the corruption spread already?

It was a little disappointing when they were allowed into the elevator, nobody moving. Megan had looked like she'd wanted to ask what was going on, but she wisely didn't, and for that she wouldn't be bothered. She didn't really know anything, didn't hold enough stake for anyone to kill her and draw a spotlight onto Rand Enterprises. If she had raised inquiry, maybe they would be fighting now. He wouldn't mind hitting someone, vent his rage at the conspiracy happening within his company once again.

As the elevator began its descent to the ground floor, Danny stepped backward so he stood beside Ward.

“Yeah, we're the Defenders from the news. Whoever these people are, they'll wish they never messed with my family.”


	14. Chapter 13: Say the Same

_**“Wish I could say the same.”** _   
_**-Jeri Hogarth** _

_TUESDAY, MORNING_

“Give me that!”

Danny snatched the phone away before Ward could prevent him.

His wrist injury must have been feeling better because he was using the hand with no sign of incapacitation or discomfort. Still, he swept a concerned gaze across his body, ending at the mark under his chin from Colleen.

He was confounded over the man's sudden lack of cooperation. No sooner did they get to Danny's car in the parking garage, than he was lagging behind, dragging his feet to enter the car. They managed him into the car with minimal persuasion but it was obvious he was reappraising the information he spilled at the conference table.

Why, he couldn't figure out. Maybe he did something bad and was afraid they would uncover it. He glanced at Jessica, who was driving, then Matt, who sat in the passenger seat twisted around to peer into the backseat despite his blindness. He assumed it helped him focus to be facing toward what he was mapping, or he might do it to put others at ease to look where he spoke.

“Check it. He was texting someone.”

Danny reckoned by the nervous energy shedding off Ward in waves, Matt was correct. He loosened his hold on the cell phone gripped tight and lifted it to his face. It was locked.

“What's the cod-”

Matt recited the string of numbers to him briskly, like it wasn't impressive he could know them from listening to Ward do it. How many times? Once? Twice? Astonishing.

The man beside him sank into the seat cushion, staring out the window. He read the most recent text aloud so the rest could hear too.

“Don't do anything. I'm not betraying you.” Danny looked at the sender. “What does that mean? You're lying to us?”

“Who did he send it to?” Jessica queried, spinning the wheel a tad harder than he thought was necessary as she made a quick turn.

“Mandela. Who's that?”

The man didn't say anything, only shook his head.

He stewed for a few seconds before verbally lashing out. “If you don't want us to think you're bad, you need to start talking.”

“Think what you want,” he muttered, continuing to stare out his window.

Danny resisted the urge to express anger, determining to use logic to do the convincing. “You want to talk. I know you do. At Colleen's place, you kept bringing up your dad. You were _trying_ to tell us what the problem was indirectly. And you just asked for help back there. That's not giving up or doing the wrong thing. It's the right thing.”

Dejected, Ward said, “Sometimes you do the wrong thing when you do the right thing.”

He caught sight of Jessica eying the man in the mirror, then looking away as she pulled up to park. They got out of the car and he slipped the phone into his jacket pocket. Ward perused the building at length before reluctantly following them inside the dojo.

No one tried discussing anything again until they were in the main room of the dojo, shuffling about as they each worked out in their heads how best to approach the dilemma. They might have to force him to tell what they needed and he really hoped it wouldn't come to that. He wished to earn Ward's trust, and he wouldn't succeed by forcing the issue.

The lump in his pocket, a reminder of the phone, gave him an idea. He removed the slender item and held it out to its owner. His eyes widened a bit as he stared like this was one great trick.

“Here. It's yours,” he stated simply.

Jessica and Matt were looking at him, probably speculating on what he thought he was doing giving the phone back. It could be a bad idea, but they had to start somewhere. If he wanted Ward to trust him, he would extend trust first.

Uneasy, Ward accepted his phone but didn't put it away. In fact, he was sort of holding the thing like it burned him. After what felt like a very long silence, he tapped in his code, scanned through a moment, and then held it up so he could read the screen.

Squinting, Danny read the text message on display from Mandela, the person Ward messaged in the car.

“New targets in process of selection. I'm taking care of things. Their interest will expire or the targets will.”

He couldn't resist searching if there were more messages and he was allowed to look, but there were none. It seemed he erased his history on a regular basis, or somebody else did. There were at least three of these people, whoever they were, working in close proximity to Ward. He just wanted to know what was going on.

“You got that message before you decided to come with us,” he noted. “So you do want help. What targets? Whose interest? What have you been involved in?”

“Do you blame me?”

Caught off guard by the personal inquiry when he had bigger ideas on his mind, he hesitated, studying the quiet man. He wanted to be attentive and grant an honest answer.

“If someone's doing this to you, then no, I don't blame you. What should I be blaming you for?”

Ward opened his mouth, closed it, eyed the other two in the room with them. “He'll get me back. This will never last. I can't risk it.”

Exasperation leaking into his voice, he begged to be told anything. “Tell me who Mandela is. Is this someone you made a deal with? Realized you made a mistake after? Those people at Rand like Patterson or your driver.. Do they work for this Mandela like you?”

Jessica shook her head, contemplating. “Nah, he said something about them showing up five weeks ago, making him or what not. Hey, is it some kind of blackmail?”

He hadn't noticed Matt becoming still or working his head about to unravel sounds until just then. His gaze settled on the sight and the man ceased movement entirely.

“Men on the stairs, equipped, armed. Gas masks.” His head jerked upright. “The roof. Rope.”

Despite the more constricting suit, he settled into combat stance, and the windows broke.

Thrown gas grenades began flooding the room with plumes of thick smoke. Men in gray gear burst through the partially shattered windows after them. Damn. Colleen was going to be pissed this happened to her place a second time.

One of the soldiers engaged him, swinging a metal baton to whack his head. He folded backward away from the blow and stepped up to take on two more coming at him.

In his peripheral vision he spotted Ward's arm grabbed by yet another, pulling him in the direction of the door. He yanked his arm free but the gas mask wearing assailant didn't try again, standing there.

Danny barely dodged a punch because of his distraction, and he devoted a couple seconds to knock down or away his three attackers. He sought out the area Ward last was, except he wasn't there. Tracking him to the doorway, he saw the guy lift up his mask to say something, and then Ward was leaving with him willingly.

What the hell? He couldn't make heads or tails of what was in that man's head. Were they his people following them from the office?

As the smoke cleared, the tactical combatants cleared out along with it. Matt jogged to the door and looked back at him, asking if they should go after Ward.

“He wanted to go,” he uttered numbly. Too many thoughts whirling around in his head. “They didn't make him.”

Danny wouldn't chase somebody who chose to run off after asking for help, refusing to give them anything they could use to actually help. Because from where they were standing, it didn't look good. It could be Ward knew a lot more than he was saying and was returning to continue his activities. He couldn't make sense of why he left the office with them at all.

Jessica let out a loud sigh of irritation. “So what, is he a bad guy? My head's gonna pop off from all the spinning.”

He wanted to believe Ward was good, even if he didn't seem ready to be honest. But hiding Harold was alive, hiding pretty much everything else too... Maybe that was who they should go looking for. The son of a bitch shouldn't be alive, and since he was, they had a score to settle.

/

_TUESDAY, MORNING-FIVE WEEKS SINCE **TUESDAY**_

“I can't believe you're here. Are you okay? Where were you?”

The soldiers in gray dropped him off on Joy's old street. She had returned home to 19 Gramercy Park. Everything was still there. He'd left it the same after she disappeared out of the city, except for the dog. He was paying for it to to live at a very expensive dog kennel for safekeeping in her absence.

He hurried up to his sister and they embraced warmly. Joy looked healthy, maybe a little on the thin side, but good. She was smiling before they hugged, and was crying tears of happiness after they pulled apart.

“I'm okay,” she reassured him. “What about you?”

He thought that was a question best avoiding. He'd prefer not to begin this wonderful reunion with a lie. And the last thing Joy needed to hear was she returned to the city to the same crap she wanted to leave behind in the first place.

“Where did you go? It's been almost two years!”

Her smile became a bit sad. “I really missed you.”

“Well yeah, I missed you too. How did you find me anyway? How do you know those guys?”

The men in the gray tactical outfits, whoever they were, crashed into Colleen's dojo shortly after their arrival. He assumed like the others had to be assuming, they were followed from the office and were the unknown bad people's, well, people. But then one of them said he was hired by Joy and Ward didn't need to hear anything else. He was eager to see his sister again.

In hindsight, that was kind of stupid on his part. They could have been lying and he would have waltzed back into Kuo's grasp. It still might happen regardless of what he did. He feared his leaving Rand Enterprises with the Defenders, capital D, would lead to dire consequences for people who didn't deserve it.

His desperation to have someone else take care of the problem overruled his terror at causing deaths in the briefest of moments, however, because they were damn solid at making a case that he didn't have to handle it alone. Once outside the building, he rescinded the request for help, remembering he wouldn't be selfish anymore, and because he didn't want people to die. Which left him stuck, because he didn't want to return to that hell either.

“I don't know them, not really. They approached us when our plane landed. Offered to deliver you to wherever I asked if we gave him an audience in turn at the time of his choosing.”

He soaked in the information. “Didn't you find that a little strange?”

“Of course I did, Ward, but I wanted to see you and I didn't care how.”

This wasn't quite fitting together. He frowned, wondering what she already knew. If she was completely in the dark about the goings on in her absence, Joy would have demanded why the hell these people thought she would require help visiting her own brother.

Finally he addressed the other person in the room. “Who are you? Why are you with Joy?”

Since he didn't know this guy, he didn't trust him in the slightest.

She was opening her mouth to answer when the man cut in. “My name isn't important. What's important is what we came here to do. Joy and I are on the same side because we share a common belief.”

Sides? He already didn't approve of how this was sounding. Why was she in New York? It wasn't to come back to her old life it would seem. It wasn't to come back for him either. Right… Trying to be less selfish.

His eyes caught sight of the photographs kept on a shelf. One of him and Joy, and a second picture of Harold. He swallowed, despising this secrecy business.

“Do you know something I should?” he asked, feeling himself fall into the familiar niche of having to avoid the truth or flat out lie to Joy.

He hated this. But his guard was going up, mind warning him caution was necessary. The man he didn't recognize kept him from overly chastising himself.

“We learned the organization threatening Dad two years ago survived. One of the leaders is in New York now and he's forcing you to serve them. That's true, right?”

“How'd you know? Oh and they call themselves Heart. Claim it's distinct from the Hand, although I'm failing to see a difference.”

Part of him was relieved she was already aware. He wasn't sure he would lie about that entirely, and he didn't have to lie at all anymore.

“His name is Bakuto,” the stranger said. “You've encountered him before and he proved most deceitful. We suspected he would move to use you as he had before. Do you know where he is?”

Untrustworthy, yeah that was definitely Bakuto. And just because he changed his name didn't lend him to believe he was any different kind of person. He was still the bastard who shot Joy.

Ward looked at the man, wary. “They've situated themselves inside Rand. I have no idea where Bakuto goes or stays or anything. He showed up five weeks ago and he continues to show up whenever he wants.”

Then he looked to Joy. “So to be clear, you guys are looking for him? I don't know if it helps, but he goes by the name Kuo.”

“It might help,” the man replied, dark eyes watching him with thinly veiled intrigue. “Joy and I would like you to help us correct a problem. We can certainly correct the issue of this Heart organization and its leader as well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What's the problem?”

There was something else going on that brought these two to New York besides a bunch of fanatics out to restart genesis or whatever the bullshit meant?

His gaze met Joy's as she came closer, placing a hand gently on his arm.

“Danny's dangerous. You were right, Ward. He's out of control.”

The confusion in his face provided her a starting point on where she had to begin explaining herself.

“Dad's been telling me what Danny's doing, going around playing judge and jury. Beating people up. He's a violent criminal and bad news. Can you imagine what would happen if someone caught on, the crazy guy running across the city at night hurting people is the Rand in our company name?

Ward sank into the chair behind him, unable to take his eyes off of her. What was she talking about? Dad told her. Danny was a criminal. She was concerned for the company's reputation.

“Joy, you left because Dad turned on Danny, tried to make him appear like a criminal. Dad's a liar. You can't trust him.”

“I _left_ because everybody I cared for had been lying to me. My entire world was a lie. Then you started telling me the truth about what Dad was doing to Danny, and he'd been watching me live my life without ever letting me know…”

“Right. All good reasons not to believe the son of a bitch.”

She nodded slowly, eyes wide as she worked through how to get her explanation out.

“Normally I would agree with you. I did then. But things are different. Dad called me maybe a year ago. Told me how he was alive. Said he wanted me to know because he wanted us to have a relationship again, finally, after all this time.”

He stared at her incredulously. “And you just believed him?”

“Not at first. But after a while, he kept calling to check in. We talked about Mom, about normal stuff. And I admitted to him what I was doing.”

“Which would be?”

“Figuring out how we could kill Danny.”

There was nothing for Ward to choke on but he managed to do it anyway, coughing to regain breath, throat dry. He was horribly conflicted as is on what the right decision was to be concerning the truth and plans Kuo was hatching. Now she was giving him this?

“What happened to you?” he demanded, horrified to hear this out of his sister's mouth.

Joy glared at him, defensive. “Me? What about you? Dad told me you were the one who killed him at Rand, Ward. The same man who admitted to me just how proud he was of you that you stopped using drugs, didn't even need them anymore. He was so impressed with the company's success while you learned to run things by yourself. He's trying to be a better man and he's our father. We owe him a chance.”

“You knew he was alive for a year? I didn't know he was alive until five weeks ago!”

Her face softened. “He wished you could know sooner but they wouldn't let him. I thought it was the Hand still, but I guess it's this group going by the name Heart? Well it doesn't matter. Dad was figuring out how to get free of them. He was just using them too.

The man standing by the window at the moment, turned away to look at him. “Five weeks?”

“Who cares how long?” Joy snapped, fixing him with an irritated stare.

He didn't respond, merely turning to face the window again. How well did they know each other? Because this guy seemed to have made the connection between Kuo showing up in New York at the same time Harold decided to share his live status with son. His sister, on the other hand, remained infuriatingly oblivious.

“Listen, Ward, I know you're dealing with your own shit with these people trying to make you use the company for them. But we can help and once they're out of Rand, we can run it like we were supposed to. We'll be a family again.”

“You sound like him.”

“Thank you. Dad always knew how to see a deal through. He'd see what he wanted and get it.”

True. Harold got what he wanted by any means. If he saw something he wanted, he took it. Bitterness threatened to overwhelm, putting him in a gloom of loathsome memories. He couldn't afford to become despondent, hindering their need to communicate here.

“That's not what I meant and I'm not saying yes.”

She shouldn't know what her dad did to her brother. Nobody should have to live with terrible knowledge like that. He would do everything in his power to save her from that truth, but accepted he couldn't compromise on the rest. She was making a mistake. A potentially huge one if she and her new friend were planning to try and kill Danny.

Joy frowned. “I don't understand. You don't want to stay with me?”

He refused to be cruel but he really needed her to get the seriousness of how majorly she was being fooled.

“Dad's a monster. I'm not being dramatic. He was a bastard to me ever since he came back from the dead the first time. He's dangerous and unstable. Harold manipulates people and then hurts them. He doesn't love us. He wants to control us, make us a family so he can have control over the company again.”

“How can you say that? He's our dad, Ward. I see right now you're speaking from a place of anger but you can't feel that way all the time. You don't want to say anything you'll regret.”

Ward wasn't able to keep away the amusement spreading on his face. A year and a half was apparently plenty of time to make up your own reality and stick to it. He wasn't a moron. He got she must have been struggling out there on her own too, trying to decide what her life was when such big secrets had been withheld from her for more than a decade. They didn't have the luxury of fixing their family anytime soon if she truly believed whatever Harold had been feeding her for months.

“Joy, Danny's a good person,” he endeavored to remind her. “He might be an idiot sometimes, absent-minded more than I'd like, but obnoxiously good.”

The stony look advised him on how well he was doing.

“My entire worldview shattered because Danny had to make trouble wherever he went,” she stated as fact. “Whether he meant to to destroy my life or not, that's what happened.”

Ward sighed tiredly. “He did not. He..showed you what your world was really like.”

“Maybe,” she said, tone flat. “And I hate him for it.”

He studied the man who aligned himself with Joy in her vendetta. Was he the one stoking the fire in her? Why did he want Danny dead? What was he really after?

Ward couldn't ask any of those things without completely alienating his sister.

Her face calmed and smoothed out. “I won't let this be an argument. I wanted to see you so badly and I want it to be a happy thing.”

“You can't clap your hands and decide it's all okay because you don't want to consider the possibility; Dad doesn't have our best interests at heart.”

“Yes I can. Like this.” Joy clapped her hands together once and smiled sweetly. “I'll give you time to consider what I'm saying. You come stay with me, and we figure this thing out together. Heart goes, Danny goes. That's not open for discussion. Decide if you want to help make it happen or sit on the sidelines while I make sure my family is protected.”

This was her business side. The half of her she claimed troubling because it made her feel as though she lacked a conscience. It would seem she was embracing that cold aspect of herself undeterred.

“Joy, you're confused..” He let his words trail off into silence when she stepped up and hugged him tight.

“Think it over. It's okay if you want to take a backseat on this one. I'm sure you've been through enough stress.”

She had no clue how accurate that was. He allowed her to walk him out of the room and down the stairs to the front door. His thoughts were occupying with considerations of how to convince someone they couldn't kill another human being, that was better convincing than the straight shot.

Opening the door, his eyes straying up the staircase to where the man stood as he did, he leaned in to speak quietly.

“Why won't he give his name? Why are you with him?”

“It's okay. He's devoted to a noble cause and I'm willing to help him since our goals coincide.”

Fine, he would go with the straight shot.

“You can't kill a man. Don't trust Harold. Hell, don't even trust that guy up there.”

She laughed softly, like he'd meant to tell a funny joke. “Goodbye, Ward. Do consider the end results as justification for the means. A family again. How nice would that be?”

Ward didn't know how to answer in any manner that wouldn't anger her or make her not trust him. It was difficult to have someone believe by word of mouth after discovering a hidden, supposedly dead father for thirteen years. His choices and thoughts blending within his mind hopelessly, he stepped outside, dejected.

“Oh and Ward?”

He paused and turned back.

“I'm going to want my old position and full access in the company when the status quo is settled.”

Joy shut the door like it was an ordinary day and he was off to go home or to the office. It was distressing to perceive the bottled up hatred boiling inside the young woman. He didn't even recognize her.

Turning round to look out at the street, he realized he didn't know where he would go. His mind wasn't made up. Go back to hell and avoid innocent people dying, go back to Danny and his friends where the faintest hope of help existed, or some other third option he had yet to create.

He picked a direction at random and began walking. It didn't take long for his choice to be robbed from him. A different day, and everything the same. Pretty much his shitty motto for the last five weeks. He retained humor even while his waking hours consisted primarily of self-disgust and selfishness. A supposed bright spot, but merely an entertainment factor.

It was really hard to think of anything but how much he wished he could be free. Hence, the selfless goal was set to give him something to reach toward other than his relentless fantasy this was all just a dream. How useful that goal had turned out.

The company car which drove Ward to and from work pulled up alongside him. He stopped and waited. There wouldn't be a point in fleeing. They always caught him.

His driver got out and surprisingly, Mikka was there too, emerging from the passenger side. Trevor came around to the sidewalk and opened the rear door, standing in front of him expectantly. Paranoid, he snuck a quick peek inside the car but it was empty.

“Did you enjoy your field trip?” Mikka asked, when he didn't move toward the car.

He glanced in the direction of Joy's apartment before addressing the confrontation with a question of his own.

“Where's Kuo?”

Trevor tapped the roof of the car. “We'll take you to him.”

His mind was replaying images of the night Joy was shot. Now she was in the city, and he couldn't be anywhere near that man. The internal dissension probably showed on his face because Mikka covered the short distance between them and gripped his shoulder.

Trying to steer him to the open door, she articulated their status. “We would protect you, successfully, from this point on. They won't. They are dysfunctional people dealing with psychosis, who went out punching and kicking on the streets when they should have taken medication.”

Ward saw the white Ram truck seconds ahead of the impact and jolted away from the car. It collided with the front end, shoving it screeching onto the sidewalk a foot or so. Mikka and Trevor managed to get clear of the zone prior to the impact and stood next to him, gawking at the incident.

When none other than the Punisher himself hopped out of the truck, crowbar idly resting on a shoulder, he gaped openly.

“You've gotta be kidding me,” he uttered.

A grin overtook his blank expression. “I'm not really big on the jokes but sure, let's try one for size. Knock, knock.”

He was talking to the man and woman on either side of him now. They were not amused, nor did they humor him. Mikka leaned, shifting her weight as she placed a hand where it seemed probable a weapon was hidden. On his left, Trevor did much the same, his right hand reaching into his suit jacket where he wore his holstered gun.

“You don't want to be involved in this, Castle.” Trevor warned.

Frank patiently scanned their hostile demeanor. “You're supposed to say, 'who's there?'”

Trevor pulled his gun and aimed to get an immediate shot off. The weapon misfired when the crowbar smacked into the arm, causing him to cry out and stagger off balance, weapon sliding across pavement. Ward watched as Mikka attempted to do the shooting with her own drawn handgun while Trevor recuperated, and took a punch to the jaw when the big guy reached her.

“And I'd say,” he said, continuing his jest. “Go fuck yourselves.”

He shoved his shoulder into Trevor looking to attack with fists from behind. It knocked him back a little but the man brandished his martial arts background in the next instant, sweeping a leg upward. His shoe got Frank in the head and he stumbled away, into Mikka's range.

The woman swiped a hand against her split lip and sneered at him. She lashed out in a flurry of fists and actually used the guy to climb up and vault over his body, jabbing her arm into his backside. Of course she was a freakin' karate expert too.

Ward rolled his eyes prior to backing up to make room for the people battling it out in broad daylight. She tried to shoot him at point blank range and he did not take kindly to the act, wrenching her wrist holding the weapon away from himself. Her knee came up into his stomach and he keeled a bit, but still managed to yank the gun out of her grasp.

He put it to her head, stopping the fight dead in its tracks. Ward looked at Trevor, who was hesitating further as he processed the onlookers beginning to gather and pry with curious eyes. His combat stance dropped and he sought to recover his firearm, which he did. But he returned the gun to the holster and kept it out of sight.

“What's it gonna be, kid?”

His addled brain sought to focus, having prepared to observe a situation out of his control, not participate.

Frank wasn't waiting for him to catch on, and spelled things out. “You can go with them or you can come with me. I'll take you someplace safe. But don't let me tell you what to do.”

Was he being given a choice? His eyes surveyed Trevor and Mikka's attitudes. They'd schooled their expressions, however, and if he had to guess, were surveying his potential action. They had to know he wasn't with Heart, not really, which would mean they already knew what he was going to do. So be it.

Done hesitating, he nodded his head up and down once. “You.”

He smirked at the woman he held the gun on. “Man's made his choice. You gonna leave him to it or am I going to have to make certain you do?”

Mikka smiled as he lowered the weapon very slowly, providing her space, but prepared to react. She attended to him, brisk and business-like.

“Kuo will contact you soon with our counteroffer. He anticipates your return to the fold.”

He followed Frank to the white truck without resistance and they both got in, the two Heart members watching all the while on the sidewalk. Reversing the car into the road and nearly swiping a van attempting to ease its way past, Ward inhaled and then exhaled to relax. He wasn't entirely sensitive to what he'd just agreed to. Was the criminal alone or would he return him to Danny and the rest? Did it matter to him?

“You don't have to be scared.” Frank told him, keeping his eyes ahead on the road. “I tracked your activity since last night, trying to see if you're worth it.”

Ward frowned. “Worth what?”

Instead of an answer, he said, “Just tell me this. You corrupt like these guys think?”

He sighed and smiled to himself, resentful. “I'm a disappointment.”


	15. Chapter 14: Mistakes

_**“To remind me of my mistakes.”** _   
_**-Harold Meachum** _

_TUESDAY, LATE MORNING_

“Guy called himself a disappointment and didn't say another word the whole way here.”

Ward sat on Matt's couch, looking like he wished he could disappear inside the cushions. He and the others only just arrived to find their reluctant, obtuse informant. At least he hoped he'd finally be that role and help them out a little. They knew next to zero real details concerning what might be threatening the city and it was troubling.

In the time his business partner and old friend took off, Danny went with Jessica and Matt to see if Harold was at Ward's house. He wasn't and so they stopped by the hospital to check on Luke's condition and update the ladies on current events. They weren't thrilled by their report, unsurprisingly, and Matt received a call from Frank Castle that brought them all to his home.

“Did you ask him anything else?” demanded Danny, suspicious he knew what the answer would be and he wouldn't care for it.

Frank leaned against the kitchen counter. “Nah.”

“And why did you think it would be a good idea to bring him to my place?”

“Seemed like a safe bet,” he told Matt, unconcerned.

Danny turned away from them to stand in front of the man in consideration. Behind him, Claire sat in a chair while a short distance behind her, the other women hovered near the bedroom doorway. The two stood stiffly and uncertainly, clearly bothered not having all the information they would like.

“Okay,” he said, focusing on Ward. “Where did you go and why did you go with those people? Why come back? Do you want help or not?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” the man treating them like they were the nuisance in the way of his schedule asked. “Perhaps you should make a list so you don't leave any out.”

Gaze hard, he nodded vigorously. “That's a good idea. Someone get me a paper and pen.”

Claire had a sullen look on her face, eyes staring daggers at the uncooperative man while she indicated, “Pretty sure he was being facetious.”

“Well, do I look like I am?” Danny insisted, not even trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “And that's enough contempt and condescending for the day.”

He was tired of the spiteful and disrespectful Ward he was getting. They were supposed to have left things on good terms when he departed on his journey to visit K'un-Lun two years ago. There was a reason he was being treated much like he was before Ward trusted him and joined sides to put a stop to Harold's treacherous antics. He just had to figure the reason out.

Digging a notepad and pen from her purse, she handed the items to Danny. He accepted them and pensively began jotting various questions for which he desired answers. Ward watched him, looking for all the world like he was straining to bite his tongue. It was a start.

Claire stood up abruptly. “I'm making coffee. Want a cup?”

She directed the inquiry to Ward and he nodded carefully, as if he wasn't definite he could ask for anything. Slipping her purse over her shoulder, she walked into the kitchen area where Matt stepped away when he made the miscalculation of trying to help her.

“I got it. Go sit. Talk.”

Matt removed his sunglasses and placed them in his pocket. He gave her a look, something he was splendid at giving despite the eyes not being in use, or perhaps because of it. Danny returned to his writing, trying to block distractions.

He was aware of movement, noted Matt taking Claire's chair to resume the monitoring of their subject. They all wanted to protect New York, but Danny knew he was most adamant of his purpose and accomplishing some sort of justice for its citizens. If his identity was exposed, he would be placing his own loved ones in peril as well. He needed answers too.

Ward didn't trust them, that much was obvious. It wasn't entirely out of line. These were strangers as far as he was concerned, and he had no cause to see them as friendly or carrying no risk. Danny remembered Ward was someone who cared about consequences, fallout.

“Why did you leave?”

Astute, he questioned, “The office or the dojo?”

Shrugging, he peered up from his paper and said, “Both.”

“The office I was listening to you. The dojo was for Joy.”

Surprised, he asked, “Joy?”

“She's in the city. Those men were working for her.”

Working for Joy? Alarmed, he thought about what that could mean. There was no way she was involved in some street level weapons transaction. It didn't make sense.

“She's back. How long have they been working for her? Why would she hire people like that?”

Ward nullified his immediate misgivings toward his sister. “They found her at the airport when she arrived back in New York. Made a deal with her to find me and set up a meet, if she would meet with them later. She didn't tell me much so there's no point in asking.”

Colleen's forehead scrunched as she sauntered to stand by the large windows. “I would really like to know who those people are.”

His mind remained on Joy. “Is she okay? Where has she been?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. She's different. If you see her, you should watch yourself Danny.”

“What? Why?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted, sounding frustrated. “But she wasn't nice.”

Troubled over the possibilities and uncertain what to believe, he cleared the issue from his mind to refocus on further questions.

“Are you being forced to use Rand for someone else's interests?”

“Yes.”

“When did it start?”

“They came five weeks ago. I started helping them...” he paused to think about it. “Two days ago.”

Frowning, he wondered to him, “It doesn't seem like you want to do whatever it is they want, so why did you change your mind?”

“How about what they want, who 'they' even is?” Matt mentioned. “And how are you going to convince us that anything you say is even true?”

Ward appeared puzzled by this, tapping his chest and then pointing the fingers at the other man. “Thought you could tell the truth by listening to people's hearts or whatever creepiness that was at the warehouse.”

“That depends if the person thinks they're lying or merely telling a kind of truth. Which is what you think you're doing, isn't it?”

“I think you should listen to him. Believe him.” Frank suggested, hopping up to sit on the counter. “Because he chose to go with the known mass murdering psycho he doesn't know shit about, over those people from his office.”

“Could just make him an idiot.” Jessica helpfully pointed out.

“Thanks lady I don't know.” Ward remarked sarcastically, then grew a more solemn tone. “It's bugging me. Who are you? I feel like I should recognize the name..”

“Jessica Jones. Super strong...”

“You're one of them.” he practically exclaimed, putting it together.

The woman looked at Danny side-eyed. “How come he knows the rest, but me nothing?”

Matt shook his head and answered in his place. “He didn't. We put ourselves in his sphere of living and that allowed him to put the pieces together.”

“So, not an idiot. Fine,” she accepted hastily. “What's your story then, Meachum?”

He was retreating into reluctance and growing quiet again. Why did he do this? Why couldn't he explain his actions and absolve himself? Unless he couldn't and was guilty, and didn't want them to know it.

“Here, coffee.” Claire said, handing him a mug and then walking to the window to hand Colleen a mug.

She took a sip from her own, peering above the rim to watch Ward drink. The heat and taste of coffee seemed to relax him, and he shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch. Getting something in his system had the effect of making him more cooperative too.

“I've got the power, Harold's all the corruption, and I never want to be that. I would give up the power and the money in a second if it would avoid that. Corrupt Rand is corrupt me and I hate that guy. I won't go back to the self-loathing, pathetic kid. I wouldn't be sitting here now if I was lying about that, okay?”

Matt speculated on the statement. Danny was also, but he was shifting through memories of two years back at the same time. The man did a lot of tolerating his father. What if he was doing it again? It would put responsibility straight into his hands.

Recalling an issue he'd been stupidly oblivious to when he didn't know Ward very well, he brought it to the forefront. “How can I know you haven't begun taking drugs again, and decide listening to your father is okay, as long as you can pretend there's no consequence to you?”

“I haven't used drugs since those days Dad made me do bad things.”

He wasn't convinced in the slightest. “Nobody can make us do anything. We make our own choices and have to own up to them.”

Matt glanced his way. “He isn't lying.”

Danny didn't care. Thinking about how Harold was alive and out there yet was beginning to affect his emotions. The man should be dead or imprisoned for what he did. He killed his parents!

“What are you accusing me of, Danny?”

Watching him sit there calmly drinking coffee angered him. He was being irrational. He knew he should keep it together and get the answers he wanted. Forcing his eyes to read the lines of questions on the paper, he selected one least likely to spurn darker thoughts.

Then he realized he was the one treating him unfairly. Looking at Ward, he closed the notepad and set it aside. He sat down next to him on the couch and met his eyes.

“I'm sorry. I'm not listening to you. If you wish to see the truth, then hold no opinion. I'd forgotten that. What will you tell us?”

Caution was evident in his expression. “Short story. A bunch of assholes came to town and want to start a new world, replace the old. No idea how someone goes and does that but it's their end goal.”

He hadn't been wrong. Ward was intentionally avoiding specifics. Either it was a matter of trust or he didn't think they could help him. Why wouldn't he think of someone other than himself for a minute?

“I've got some notes that could prove interesting.” Frank shared, reaching into his inner jacket pocket to remove a few sheets of crumpled paper, and proceeding to recite recorded information.

“Surveillance notes Monday night. W,” he lifted his gaze to the disdainful stare Ward was delivering to him from his twisted around position on the coach. “That's you.”

Danny mimicked the man beside him's position to put Frank in sight.

“Dropped off by work car. Frank Stein, who we now know to be HW,” he winked at the object of his unwelcome spying. “That's Daddy. Still inside. Leaves shortly after W return. Ninja observed overseeing house and street from rooftop of apartment complex across the street.”

Startled, he peered at the man now fully ignoring what was being read, rotating to sit properly on the couch. He kept his position seated on his knees to see Frank and glanced toward Colleen and Jessica by the window.

“I saw a ninja at the parking garage that night. Might have been spying on us like Frank was doing to Ward.”

“It's called surveillance. I had Micro conduct background and that's how I learned Harold Meachum is a guy who doesn't know how to stay dead. Cancer, then multiple gunshot wounds and crushing injuries as a result of a significant fall, followed by cremation,” he paused before adding, “And spying just makes it sound so..untoward.”

Danny watched him sip his coffee and then roll his eyes at the man excusing the inappropriate prying into his day to day business. But was it really inappropriate? Or was it simply inconvenient for whatever it was he wasn't budging on telling?

Frank cleared his throat. “Anyway, as I was saying, U male, uh, unidentified male, wearing a tracksuit arrives. Leaves after approximately four hours. Lights out. No further disturbance. Ninja remains. Ended 0100 hours.”

The coffee mug was set on the table, a hand coming up to rub at his face. He frowned at Ward. “You okay?”

He received a grunt that mostly sounded like a cuss word to mind his own business. Sighing, he returned to the note reading which was at least more informative than the grouch on his left.

“0800 surveillance resumed. W present inside. Ninja present on rooftop, cannot ascertain if it is the same one as the night before. W leaves 0900 by work car, arrives at office 0930. 0950, Red and friends enter office including Danny Rand and U female. By 1000, ninja tracking Rand car from parking garage through traffic via rooftop, impressively I might add.” Frank waited a brief moment as though for emphasis, before resuming. “Soldiers assault dojo building, W accompanies them to residence listed under his sister's name. Work car parks down street from JM residence, ninja goes bye bye.”

Danny thought he was enjoying his spiel a bit much, embellishing here and there.

“W exits JM residence, work car trails W for two blocks then pulls over. Driver-U male, passenger, U female, get out and rear door is opened for W who does not enter. W doesn't seem to want in. U female gets handsy.” Frank crumpled the paper up again and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “Punisher goes to kick some ass.”

“But he did choose to go with you,” Matt said, looking for clarification. “It was his choice.”

“Yep,” he replied, and hopped off the counter to grab a cup of coffee for himself.

Matt seemed encouraged. “Then he just needs to be assured he's doing the right thing by exposing these people.”

He looked to the man he held hope for and became still, working something out. Danny glanced away from his reaction to Ward, whose head was tilted downward, face resting in his hand. He squinted closer, surprised by what he was doing.

“Are you _sleeping_?”

Danny yanked his wrist from under his face and his head bobbed, bleary eyes struggling to look at him.

“I'm tired,” he groused.

Exasperated, Ward rubbed at his eyes and tried to get up from the couch before collapsing back onto it. He put a hand on his shoulder and shook it but he didn't even stir. Matt cocked an ear and didn't want him to worry by the immediate reassurance that followed.

“He's just sleeping. There's nothing wrong.”

“Uh, but why is he suddenly sleeping?” prompted Jessica curiously.

Everyone appeared flustered by the change in him, except Claire. She ambled over and placed Ward's chin in a hand to lift his face toward her. Opening a closed eyelid with a finger, she checked his pupil.

All eyes staring at her expectantly, she turned to the nearest one of them. “He's fine.”

Danny continued to meet her gaze and it clicked. “You drugged him.”

She released his face and lowered the head and rest of his body to lie against the couch backing. “Ambien in the coffee. The caffeine should interact with the sedative. It won't last that long.”

In the kitchen area, Frank dropped his mug onto the countertop, hot liquid splashing over the rim. “The hell?”

Claire smiled. “In _his_ coffee, Frank.”

“Oh, well,” a hint of embarrassment showed on his face, eyes tracking Colleen continuing to sip her own coffee. “It's hard to know when you're dealing with crazy people.”

A grin spread across her face. “Says the guy who embraced the title of punisher.”

Her fingers worked to loosen and remove Ward's tie before working the buttons loose. Danny reached over and put a hand on hers to stop her.

“What are you doing? Why did you do this?”

She fixed a stern look upon him. “Ever have any suspicions there might have been abuse between father and son, when you were children or when you met them again as an adult?”

Danny assessed the memories dredged up when he returned to his home after leaving K'un-Lun. His eyes flickered back and forth as he searched for every relevant one he could imagine. Finally, he took a moment to figure on phrasing.

“My memories of him, of us as kids, were changed when I expanded my outlook to include his,” he described.

Something he was ashamed he didn't bother to try while he was growing angry over the Meachum siblings shutting him out of the company and their lives constantly.

“Now that I know what his dad is capable of, murdering my parents, manipulating and using me, driving his own son to be willing to kill him to stop him..” he said, thinking hard. “How Ward could be so mean out of nowhere when we were kids, how he would look at my parents. It was jealousy that I got a good father, still had a mom. He hated me back then, because I could be myself while he had to put on a front to please Harold.”

Claire nodded, listening intently. “So, probable emotional abuse. Intense psychological abuse if the former drug use is any indication. And as adults?”

He sighed, feeling guilty. He would reprimand and blame Ward for plenty, never accepting his own shortcomings. It didn't make for a good friend, a good anybody.

“The night we stopped Harold together, he told me he'd endured a lifetime of abuse and I told him his father killed my parents. We had a lot on our minds. We both would do anything to stop Harold.”

“In the time you've spent with him as adults, does he never appear enthusiastic about something? What about being out of it, distracted? Unnecessarily defiant?”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “All of those. He's a major CEO. Maybe he doesn't have time for things that can excite him or whatever. What are we even talking about?”

She stared pointedly at his grip on her wrist and he hesitantly released it, lowering his arm back to his side. While she resumed undoing shirt buttons, he stood, watching and thinking uncertainly. Absentmindedly, he did see the businessman wasn't wearing an undershirt this time, but mostly he was wondering if he missed something major. That possibility was all too familiar for him.

“The manner in which he is hostile, pushing people away, and his inability to share intimate details,” Claire listed methodically. “Got me considering the possibility of abuse. The guard on his wrist, the punching his knuckles bloody yesterday unnoticed, with an image of his father's face in his head? Pretty big warning signs.”

Her hands dropped as she furrowed her brow, pushing the shirt aside to feel his stomach. A groan issued from the sedated man and she stopped. Danny stepped closer, examining the lower abdomen where there were a handful of ugly bruises.

“The ones making him use Rand for them could have done this,” he posited.

She looked at him and acknowledged the possibility. “Yes, maybe.”

Colleen was wandering over, pausing by Matt's chair. She was trying to get a look, fascination revealing in her posture. But it was her suggestion that confounded him the most.

“Check his backside. I thought I might have seen something at my place the other day, but it was barely a glimpse. I wasn't sure I saw a shadow or something real.”

Disinclined to aid this invasion of privacy while simultaneously wishing for the answer, he returned to his spot on the couch to help. They would do it anyway so he put an arm in front of Ward's chest as support, using the other to assist Claire in leaning him forward. She tugged the suit jacket and shirt along with it, partway down his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck.” Jessica breathed, having come around to stand behind the couch by Frank for a better view.

Growling, Frank pushed off the counter and slipped his arms beneath Ward's shoulders, lifting him from the couch. He slipped an arm under his legs and carried him to set his unmoving form down on the countertop. They didn't understand what he was trying to achieve until the rest of his clothing was removed, save for his boxer shorts.

He'd never seen someone in real life with the telling injuries of sexual abuse, but he knew about them from a seminar the students in his school had to attend. The thing took the whole morning and was concerning child abuse and what to do if you suspected abuse or were a victim. Danny didn't recall any of the lecture, however, a few of the images managed to stick in his head even to this day.

“Damn it! Should've killed the son of a bitch when I had him in my sights.”

Frank turned away to fume at a wall for a moment, and Danny nudged himself to go to Ward. He had his own experiences undergoing brutal training in K'un-Lun. But he was training to be a warrior, therefore accepting the burden of pain.

The clinical approach Claire maintained was fading, and she let herself sit on the couch staring straight ahead. He surmised the nurse may have gotten carried away with proving herself correct and pushed aside the ramifications of knowing. Also, it wouldn't be unlikely she never suspected sexual abuse. He sure as hell never had.

“I told the guy to go home that night in the warehouse.” Matt remembered, horrified. “This was why he wanted someone to die. To stop it from happening.”

Matt strode across the room to join him where he was standing stiffly at the counter. Danny watched as tentatively, his hands reached forward and sensed the mottled and bruised flesh of his inner thighs and ones low on hips. He sought to distinguish the remainder of his present state, tracing ribs, shifting him to his side to survey the lines of some kind of whip across the back. There were recent and old marks alike. It couldn't be this organization that appeared only five weeks ago.

“Do you think it was Harold?” Matt enquired, leaving the man alone to sleep unpestered. “Or do you think it was torture to force his cooperation with the company?”

He shook his head, glaring in the vague direction of the sleeping body. “Ward never-I never-There was nothing suggesting any kind of physical abuse.”

The other type wouldn't come out of his mouth. It was too terrible. He denied the possibility while it was nonsensical to do so. Harold murdered his best friend, nearly killing a whole family and additionally taking the lives of two pilots to do it. If someone could do that, how difficult could it be to hit a person or force-?

His train of thought ground to a halt, head blurring. He spun away and raced for the bathroom. He realized he didn't know where it was but fortunately it was in plain sight. Danny threw up into the toilet in the nick of time.

Feeling worn, he rested his forehead on the toilet seat. After a few moments, he sensed a presence standing in the doorway and let himself fall away from the porcelain to lean his back against the wall. Colleen joined him to sit on the floor of the bathroom. She took his hand.

“It was Harold, wasn't it?”

She wasn't really asking.

His eyes found their intertwined hands artificially fascinating to avoid eye contact. He was ashamed by his own blindness. Why couldn't he see the uncomfortable relationship, the dark influence of Harold's hold on Ward, until his own life was affected? It took being framed as a criminal to ever realize he was nobody's son anymore.

“How can a father do something so evil to their child?”

Colleen squeezed his hand and pulled away to place her hand on the side of his face, turning him to meet her assured gaze.

“The night we went to stop Harold and I saw Ward, covered in his own blood, I was prepared to kill. I would have done it if he hadn't gotten the drop on me with a gun. I was confident I would be able to and I still am.”

“You want to kill Harold?”

Danny reclined back and she removed her hand where it wasn't wanted. He trained his eyes on her, studying her expression. It was genuine. She meant every word.

Beginning to wonder at his thoughts, she said, “Danny?”

“Me too.”


	16. Chapter 15: Harold

_**“The only person Harold cares about is Harold.”** _   
_**-Ward Meachum** _

_TUESDAY, AFTERNOON_

“Somebody's gonna die.”

All eyes went to the countertop where Ward was currently awakening from his drugged sleep. He'd maybe been out an hour and they'd spent the time quietly weighing their options on what little information they had to go on. Now he was balancing himself on elbows and immediately noticed what was missing, glancing down.

“Uh.. Why am I not wearing clothes?”

Still in somewhat of a stupor, he misjudged the distance to get off and fell hard on his side with a yelp. Frank was helping him onto his feet when Danny ultimately decided the honesty rule had to continue. However, the sedative incident wouldn't be doing much for that cause.

“Ward...”

He didn't mean to, but for the briefest moment his attention shifted lower before he managed to catch it and dart his gaze up to face level. Ward looked downward and his breath hitched a bit as he saw faint bruising apparent on the inside of his upper legs, and more significantly discerning bruises on hips. Panic flared in big eyes.

“It's nothing.”

“Ward, it's okay.”

He expressed skepticism in the general reassurance, seemingly fearing what they might do with the information. “I don't want to talk about it. Ask whatever else you want, but forget you saw this.”

Searching for his clothing and finding them to be out of reach unless he ventured to the couch where Matt and Jessica sat, he was out of luck. His face twisted in dissatisfaction, crankiness coming and going in a matter of seconds as the shame and then fear won over. Did he feel responsible for his own fate? Find fault in himself for the inability to prevent the assaults?

“Don't you dare. I don't need your commiseration.” He stared at them all, eyes wide as he elucidated, “From any of you.”

“How the hell did you hide it?” Jessica asked, sounding genuinely curious instead of pitying or sympathetic.

It worked for him apparently, because he didn't mind answering. “After a while it's just another thing you have to deal with. I got good at hiding the truth.”

Danny risked asking, “How long?”

He didn't specify and there was no requirement to do so. It was clear by the look coming over his face that he understood they already knew who was the doer. His reluctance to answer spoke volumes of the degradation he underwent to have to feel his answer put the blame on him.

“I was 24 when he decided hitting would be fun.” There was arrogance in his words to counteract the vulnerability as he added, “This interrogation is officially annoying.”

His body angled toward his clothes like he would really appreciate having them, but a part of Danny thought they should take advantage of his vulnerable nature, if only to claim the answers they truly needed to have to keep the city safe.

“You answer the next couple questions straight, enough of the vague bullshit from earlier, and then we will leave you alone for a while.” Frank offered, leaning forward from his spot on the other side of the counter. “How about that?”

The man was blunt, to the point. He wasn't much for wasting time and nothing changed for him since learning of the abuse. Except for the muted rage simmering below the surface, but Danny had to confess, the man was adept at hiding the raw feeling behind a blank mask.

“You people pull this shit and do whatever you damn well please, but I'm the asshole?” Any remaining trace of fear vanished and irritated impatience replaced it. “I've been dealing with this crap for years. I don't need your kind of help. Drugging me? Well screw that.”

Frank made a few quick strides and loomed directly in front of him. “No, what I think is you're thinking you're responsible for helping yourself, cause that's the way it's always been for you. You've been on your own, so you dig yourself out of your own hole. Nobody else is gonna do it for ya, right? But you didn't dig this hole, and you didn't dig the last one or the one before that either. So why keep blaming solely yourself? It's stupid and I better not get a whiff of that coming from you or _I'll_ smack you a good one.”

He winced. Did he threaten an abuse victim with potential abuse? Yes, he did. Although Danny could believe someone like Ward wouldn't be easily swayed by anybody's words.

“Oh just give him pants.” Colleen conceded, stalking to the chair where his clothes were placed.

She carried to him his pants with the belt still through the loops, and his dress shirt. Danny glanced at the shoes and suit jacket and had the thought to return them as well. He glanced at the sour look on the man next, and changed his mind. It was unnecessary and he wasn't feeling particularly generous.

Once he had his pants on, belt buckled, and was beginning to button his shirt, he'd calmed down. Guess he'd been wrong about the vulnerability being useful to gain answers. A point to his girlfriend for reading the situation more accurately.

His eyes found Danny, pausing the buttoning halfway up the shirt. “If we're doing truth here, you promise that's what I'm going to get from you? Full disclosure, on everything.”

Startled but pleased, he quickly answered. “Yes. Of course.”

“I want a very simple thing by most standards. I want to be safe. To go to sleep and not have to worry about what's going to happen tomorrow.” Ward scanned the room at the gathered faces for a few seconds and then said, “He calls himself Kuo, leads an organization named Heart. But it wasn't always like that. His name-”

A cell phone began to ring, startling everybody to varying degrees. Danny saw Ward see where it was coming from. It was Claire who walked up to the chair where his suit jacket lay folded and removed the phone.

Glancing at the screen, she held it aloft in the air. “Mandela. Who's that?”

His gaze flickered to Colleen and then Danny again. “Leave it alone?”

Danny could tell his suggestion was based on self-interest, avoidance. He didn't want to deal with the person on the other end of the phone, which meant it had to be someone in this “Heart” organization. Probably. Only a single method to confirm it.

“Give it to Ward. Answer.”

“So we can hear,” instructed Frank while he retreated into the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee.

Enormous reluctance weighed on the man as he slowly made his way to Claire to take the phone. He looked down at the screen and then to her. The phone continued to ring, shrill and persistent.

“Did you drug me?”

“Ambien. My boyfriend's in the hospital and I was really ticked you weren't being forthright.” She paused. “Sorry. And I'm not sorry too.”

Ward sighed. “I asked for the truth. Guess I get all of it.”

She smiled lightly. “Damn straight.”

Backing up a bit, she pushed his remaining clothes to the side and sat in the chair. The rest of them watched and listened, waiting. Danny tightened his posture and slowed his breathing. He had to maintain control of himself and be ready for whatever they might learn.

He answered the phone, hitting the speakerphone key, and greeted flatly, “Kuo.”

There was silence at first, and then, “Average human minds are easily influenced. But strong minds believe there is something greater and question their reality often, as they should.”

Colleen stirred beside him, growing agitated, unsettled. He paid extra attention to her, wondering what was the bother.

“Too bad you failed to claim him undefiled. Five weeks made immeasurable difference on his psyche. His allegiance is to me now, or he bears the consequence.”

Danny scowled and spoke, since the guy obviously was talking to others he knew to be in the room listening. “Doesn't sound like devotion to me. More like oppression of the cruelest order.”

He turned to Colleen as she sank to her knees, staring at the phone in shock.

“Do you think he has devotion to you, Danny Rand? You who failed to save him from experiencing his worst nightmares again and again?”

Ward snarled into his phone, “Enough taunts. What do you want?”

“Return to me and all is forgiven. I won't make them see how we converted you.”

The man frowned, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Danny knelt beside Colleen, murmuring, “What's wrong?”

There came a knock on the door. Everybody froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank moving and Matt was already up and nearly to the door. Jessica rose to her feet, as did Claire, and they stared at the spot while Matt unlocked the door and opened it fast.

The hallway was quiet. Matt didn't appear surprised. He lowered his attention to the floor and picked something up, swiping a thumb over the surface and shape of the item. Frank stepped out into the hall, glaring in either direction menacingly. He put his attention on a narrow box, pretty big, and carefully opened it like the thing might explode.

When nothing happened, he rifled through with a hand and glanced into the apartment. “It's a TV and DVD player.”

Matt came back into the room, holding the item which was revealed to be a disc in clear view. “DVD?”

“Ward, leave now and embrace the changing tide.”

He glared at the phone screen, though it couldn't be seen by the man on the other end. “What did you mean? What are you doing?”

Frank carried the boxed television inside before closing the door. “We doing this?”

“If you don't want people to die, then I suggest you do.”

Now it was Frank's turn to glare at the cell phone. “Good fuckin' ears. What the hell do you want?”

His answer was simple. “Ward.”

The man stomped over, looking done with everything going on. “He's not an object to be bargained or dealt.”

“Just set up the stupid TV,” Colleen ordered.

Danny studied her uncertainly, worried as she stood and walked over to stand next to the phone with Ward. Something had shaken her and he was kicking himself not knowing what.

“Bakuto.”

He snapped to, awareness flooding his system. She was right. How had he not identified the voice sooner? Bakuto was one hundred percent dead. This wasn't possible and yet...

“Colleen. Adjusting to life without a family?”

She glanced toward Danny. “I have a new one. Family who wouldn't kill me for failing to live up to expectations.”

“Your lack of faith lost you the family, Colleen. It will lose you this latest one too.”

Danny tore his attention away from her to take in Jessica and Matt removing the large television and DVD player from the box, setting it up on an empty table pushed against the far wall. With Bakuto involved, he had a feeling this wasn't going to be good.

“Last chance, Ward. Or your fate will be decided for you.”

Ward stared at his phone. “No you said-”

He was interrupted so he couldn't get further in his protest. “Your life. What's wrong?”

“No, don't do this.”

Silence on the other side. Danny watched him tremble. He couldn't tell if it was anger or fear ruling his emotions, but whatever it was led him to answer listlessly.

“I'm not in control of my life. I'm alone.”

It sounded like the man on the other side of the call was smiling as he prompted, “And?”

“I will be in control.” Ward's head tossed back in a gesture of exasperation and he finished what he was saying with a hand rending his kept hair. “I will never be alone.”

“How?” Bakuto persisted.

“With you,” the frustrated man articulated, timid for all of his expressive chagrin.

Equal parts arrogant and afraid. What happened during the past five weeks? Why did Bakuto target and seem to take pleasure in his torment? It infuriated Danny and his fists clenched tightly together.

“Turn on the television.” Bakuto advised. “There's a remote device installed that grants us video access on demand. I want you to see something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Jessica as she worked to put every cord in the proper connection.

Claire approached Colleen cautiously. She definitely wanted to say something to her but not with the dead man on the phone hearing them. She probably wished to ask what they were all wondering. How was this dead guy not dead? Ward might know, but they wouldn't ask him either while they could be heard. They wouldn't give their enemy the satisfaction of puzzling over his apparent resurrection.

“His conversion was a process, as with anyone. But when it happened, it happened fast and absolute. Remarkable. It's possible I never even needed Harold to draw the boy in, but I suppose it's a little late for reassessing something already accomplished.”

“You killed people,” Ward charged outright. “You call that an accomplishment?”

“They died because of you. Don't forget that. Three people all so you could say you had pride.”

Danny saw the self-condemnation fill Ward's eyes and it grew his anger. He wasn't to blame. He had to quit blaming himself for everything bad that happened. He didn't used to do it and now he couldn't seem to stop.

“Kuo!” Frank yelled. “Or Bakuto. Whatever name suits your fancy. Got your TV ready. Save the stories for bedtime.”

A brief quiet on the other end and they turned to monitor the television screen when it switched on. He wasn't kidding about having remote access. Surveillance footage of a street, and particular row of windows in a house was showing. Danny recognized the place immediately, as it was once his family home. A scope-like view replaced the wide angle, positioning to the window.

“Earlier I sent a message informing you I was resolving the problem. In light of your..perceived conflict, I amended the procedure to account for it.”

Briefly, Joy appeared on camera, strolling past a window. She paused in front of it, handing someone something and speaking things they couldn't hear. The other person wasn't visible, and then she walked out of sight of the window and probable sniper scope.

“Did you think we wouldn't notice Joy Meachum was back in the city?”

“Don't you dare hurt her!” Ward screamed at the device, painfully aware in his tone that he was helpless to prevent anything.

The picture blinked, switching to a different one. A hospital room. Luke Cage unconscious in a bed in the coma ward, Misty Knight seated at his bedside. There was a nurse checking his IV bag, chatting conversationally with the police detective.

Danny felt the trepidation as the nurse was leaving the room and she hesitated in the doorway to peer directly into the camera. She gave a small wave and smile before disappearing down the corridor. The Hand, by whatever name they decided to give themselves, was still the Hand. They coveted power and pressured events and people to get what they desired.

Another switch, now presenting a newsroom and a janitor wheeling his cart came to a stop. He surveyed the room to be sure no one was looking and then stooped down as though to tie his shoe. Instead, he raised a pant leg to reveal a holstered gun, then tugged the pants to conceal it again. The man continued on past the office where a woman with long red hair pored through a pile of papers, glancing in at her as he went by.

He knew the reporter. Karen Page. She was someone important to Matt.

Yet a new stream of footage overtook the large screen and it was of a city block. A man was walking, pausing at a food vendor to order. The camera was following him, moving, possibly a camera worn on glasses, or a hat, or any number of possibilities. It tilted downward as a purse was shifted and opened, knife pulled partially out, glinting briefly in the sunlight before it was deposited back into the bag. The camera raised again, keeping a short distance behind the man.

“Malcolm.” Jessica murmured to herself. “Son of a bitch.”

The screen switched. An indistinguishable street corner from any other. A man in a suit with styled hair was ambling down a sidewalk, smiling and laughing in the company of a blonde woman. He knew the man. It was a good friend of Matt and he was being followed. Someone else wearing a camera somewhere on their person.

Masculine arms went up as the camera peered down at them. The would-be assassin reached for his watch and tugged a wire from it that looked sharp enough to cut through flesh. Retracting the deadly tool, the arms lowered and the gaze leveled to watch the lawyer and his female friend.

The footage cut out to black but he continued to stare at the screen. There had been a time and date on the corner of every shot, relaying the footage was live, happening at this very hour. Their friends could be minutes away from being murdered. Calls wouldn't reach them in time for a warning to do any good, at least for most of them.

“The rules are simple.” Bakuto spoke from the nearly forgotten telephone call. “Put in the disc, watch it in its entirety, all of you, and my disciples will withdraw.”

“Why?” Danny demanded. “Threatening our friends... What's on it?”

“You're bluffing,” accused Matt. “If you killed them we would hunt you down and tear you to pieces. There would be no reason not to.”

“Oh? You would forfeit your morals and beliefs so easily?” the man on the phone pretended to ponder. “No. You would never let anyone die. You would all rather take pain unto yourselves than let it happen.”

A light flicked on at the top of the TV. A camera?

“I'll be watching. Now, put in Ward's welcome video. You will get answers, and a better understanding.”

Ward reacted hearing his name, mortification subduing his personality, weakening him to the point his knees nearly gave out on him. He followed Matt's movements as he crossed the room to stand in his field of vision. Danny stared, amazed the man seemed ready to cry. Here he was missing something big again.

“Give me the phone, Ward.” Matt quietly requested.

“You'll be happy to know, heroes, that he was good.” Bakuto went on, undeterred to say as he pleased. “You were wrong, Danny, but you failed to comprehend his reality. He was a good boy until I made it so he couldn't be a good boy without being bad.”

A click and beep as he hung up and then silence. Matt peeled the phone from his weak grasp.

“You can't watch it.”

“You know we have to,” explained Matt, gently putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him to the sofa. “If you did something wrong, it won't change a thing.”

“I can't watch,” he uttered, volume barely above a whisper.

Colleen and Claire backed away to stand together by the window, clearly upset and angry Bakuto was somehow alive. Danny would say a kind of reassurance or promise, but there he had yet to find the right words. So instead he focused on what he could handle. He went to join Ward on the couch, sitting next to him while on the man's other side, Matt was exposing a secret concerning himself, extending trust as comfort.

“My own darkness, the violence inside.. I like it. I like how it feels.” Matt confessed. “Sometimes it's tempting to go too far, hurt someone too much. Especially incredibly reprehensible criminals. But I make the choice to protect life.”

Jessica was the one of them to snatch up the DVD to insert into the player. Observing her do it, Frank moved to stand close to the exit. Maybe he was hoping some bad guys would come charging in to challenge them and he could cave in a few skulls. Right now, it was something he would like to do too. He didn't like being manipulated and this video they were being made to watch had to be that.

“What I'm trying to say is,” Matt said, speaking low and soft. “Is it doesn't matter what you might have done or might want to do. It's what you actually do.”

“It's not what _I've_ done.” Ward told him, and then he stopped talking.

Mute, he watched the television as the DVD loaded, and Danny watched him.

When the video started to play, he grudgingly took his eyes away from Ward to see the monitor. A bedroom was being recorded and someone was asleep in the bed, a man coming to sit on the side of the bed near the man's head. Harold. It seemed feasible the person sleeping was Ward. The time stamp in the corner of the camera indicted 2:07 a.m. Tuesday. He counted the math in his head from the date listed to the current date, concluding the recording was filmed five weeks ago.

_“Wake up. Ward, wake up for me. Come on, son. Wake up.”_

They watched Ward panic, go from justifiable skepticism to dawning horror. He was confined to a room with a pair of psychopaths. People he thought were dead materializing inside his bedroom in the middle of the night. The man must have felt crazy.

Harold's body was exchanged with a fake copy at the morgue, courtesy of the Hand leader, Bakuto. That leader had a twin who endeavored to have faith in his brother and a better world. He abandoned K'un-Lun and sacrificed his life to help his sibling. Unambiguous love, but dubious insight toward the brother he gave up everything to benefit.

Continuing to be disturbed by her former master resurfacing among the living, Colleen questioned the method of survival out loud, seeking an answer from anyone able to provide it.

“Bakuto is older than he looks. By a lot. How could he keep his brother alive and avoid aging?”

Surprisingly, Ward was the one to try out a theory he may have thought of in the past weeks. His eyes were glued to the TV, incapable of looking away. He held a resolute demeanor in his facial and body language to see the video, hands on his thighs in a firm grip.

“Harold sleeps in a cryo chamber. He could have froze his brother until it was time to transfer Kuo's mind. If not a scientific explanation, there's always the potential for old magic he mentioned. I'm not sure I subscribe to magic, but then, how else do you explain a glowing fist of power I guess.”

Right.. Kuo was the name he preferred to call himself now.

Harold recited platitudes and confessions, reeking of the manipulations and malcontent of an odious human being. In return, Ward gave him facts and candid speech. To Danny, it seemed like he was angry to be forced to deal with his father again.

It was when he took notice of the camera, staring straight into the lens, that Bakuto- Kuo, informed him of why they'd come. The violence burst from Harold and he lashed out at his son. Kuo attempted to maintain control, even complimenting Ward on his resilience under long-term duress. But Danny was happy to see he wasn't buying into any of the talk and managed to locate and hold a secret gun on his intruders.

His happiness faded before it had much opportunity to grow. It looked and sounded like a possible scuffle happening outside the camera's reach, and when next he saw Ward, Kuo was hauling him into the bedroom. The man was beginning to state his goals for the group he was calling Heart, but the real Ward near him whimpered.

The sound was released so quiet, he almost thought it imagined. His altered posture was what told him he'd actually heard the noise. Danny searched for Ward to acknowledge him as the man shrank in on himself, huddling against the back of the couch.

Matt was sitting with his head perked upright, carefully listening to the video, and at the moment when Harold came to kneel by his son on the screen, he ceased the deliberate effort. His arm wrapped around Ward's shoulder again, shifting him from sinking into the cushion backing and pressing the side of his head into his own chest. The other man grappled to pull away, confusion overtaking his face, but then Danny saw his supportive words convince him to stay.

“Do you hear it?” he questioned. “My heart beating. Listen to the heartbeats, concentrate on the sound.”

Getting the idea, he let his ear rest against the solid chest, and Matt leaned back into the couch. It left both of them half-turned toward the television as though they were possibly watching it, but allowed for Ward to bury part of his face into his shirt. Danny had seen his old friend scared before. This was raw, debilitating terror.

Oh. No way... Kuo hit him and then Harold was removing his son's shirt, touching him in such a manner it was creepy. The sinister nature developing while he rebuked and listed disturbing adoration dismayed Danny.

The appalling attack he feared was coming began to happen. He blocked out the quiet but deafening sounds of the reactions of the others in the room with him. It was like tunnel vision, and he was alone in the room viewing this nightmare without hope of escape.

He watched a father assault son sexually, violently. The child screamed useless words of hatred and rage betraying his helplessness. Screams and pleading followed as the clothes were removed and imminent rape rapidly approached. Danny swallowed and looked away, tears filling his eyes, mercifully obscuring vision, albeit far too temporarily. It was so miserably painful, he hardly paid attention to the nudity.

Harold claimed love in the abhorrent act, the sound of a loud slap dragging his gaze reluctantly back to the video. And he wished he hadn't. When the penetration occurred, the animalistic howl of agonizing pain nearly brought a matching scream out of his own throat. He was locked between rage and despair, incapable of doing anything but sit on that couch and stare, powerless.

The screaming went on impossibly long and somehow when it ceased, it felt just as horrifying. The blank stare directly in the direction of the camera was unseeing, hopeless and void. Tears streamed down his cheeks, which somehow Danny sought to use as a focal point to try to ignore the sickening noises and sounds of the attack.

Ward was asked if he understood how important this all was, and a brutal punch in the face was Harold's follow-up to his prior brutality when he didn't get an answer. Blood dripped out of a newly alert face and the man did his best not to provoke further harm by keeping motionless. He tried to be relieved as Kuo yelled at Harold and the man gathered his clothing and left the room. He tried.

In his failure to feel any amount of solace in the aftermath, Danny sat. He listened to Kuo render rote, every monstrous action done to the man by his father with a toxic, controlling grip on his child. He learned Harold robbed Ward's opportunity to experience innocent and beautiful sex with another for the first time. There were doctor visits, broken bones, sick leave for recovery, and ongoing reminders Joy would be hurt if she knew he was alive.

Joy was constantly used as leverage, and emotional manipulation that he needed and loved his son turned into an art form. Insidious, possessive behavior made Ward give up a girl he loved, and led to the murder of a second young woman, who had the misfortune to appear on Harold's radar as enemy because his son fell in love with a disapproved kind. Danny had to see the renewed heartbreak, Ward never knowing the tragic accident wasn't an accident until then.

Furthermore, there was the revelation his father knew about the drug abuse of prescription medicine, necessary to handle the trauma, the stress and pressure continuously applied, and the actual physical pain inflicted on a whim. Created videos had been compiled of various incidents where he abused his son and used them like sadistic, personal pornography to handle his seclusion in the penthouse. There were also journals to record how his sole male heir was advancing into the legacy of his name.

Kuo turned from the traumatic memories to try and sow discord between anyone who could possibly have a positive meaning or relationship to him, isolating. He was shocked to hear Ward defend him, tell Kuo that Danny Rand was the reason he was ever free of his father.

Much as he tried to pretend, Ward was deeply affected by the devious psychological communication. Danny saw truth in the accusations of loneliness and it served to solidify his defiance. He had the audacity to boldly warn Kuo to leave him alone or regret future consequence. Pain was his reward for bravery, but Danny vowed to himself he would do everything to make Ward's promise come true.

The video went black and he glanced up when Frank took out his fury on the television, smashing it to pieces. Crossing his legs, he focused inward, cutting away the sound of Jessica clinking glasses as she poured alcohol to drink, of Colleen crying to herself with Claire beside her at the window speaking words of comfort. He closed his eyes, the last thing he heard was Jessica calling to Frank to do stop killing inanimate objects and come join her for several drinks. Then, he felt it.

He was right. The power remained within him all this time, like it was somewhere out of his reach. But he could touch it now. He summoned his chi, gathering it into his right fist.

Danny opened his eyes and uncrossed his legs, standing from the couch. He turned around to find Matt looking at him, Ward asleep in his arms, chest as a pillow. Encouraged they had finally been able to make him feel safe enough to surrender into willful sleep, and spurred on by his own return status of Iron Fist, he smiled.

It was immediately noticed and remarked upon by Colleen, staring like he might be out of it. “What is there to smile about? What's up with you?”

“I'm destined for victory,” he proclaimed. “We're going to defeat Kuo and this Heart organization. Our enemies will taste defeat.”

He raised up a glowing fist to prove his words would become action. He was the Iron Fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandela: Phenomenon where people report having the same false memories (failure in collective memory, easily influenced human minds), but some believe something greater is happening. Is this false memory of one person propagated onto others, or evidence of a Mandela Effect multiverse in which waves of events from a parallel universe have washed over into ours, creating subtle nuisances in the time-space continuum? Can cause questioning of reality.


	17. Chapter 16: Stand Against Us

_**“With you at my side, no one would stand against us.”** _   
_**-Bakuto** _

_TUESDAY, AFTERNOON_

“You didn't think it would be _that_ easy, did you?”

His daughter had a strong will. She wanted to be fully informed of everything concerning her which was smart. It would be better if she didn't actually know everything, however, and simply stuck to the plan he was handing her. At times, Joy bordered on insolence much like her brother. He wouldn't stand for it, not in his family.

“You told me Danny left Ward to run the company all on his own. That they barely spoke to each other since the night you were killed and I left town.”

He nodded once, confirming, “They barely did.”

Joy sighed and finished inputting data into the tablet. She strode across the room and handed it to him. Harold accepted it, glancing at the window. He was careful not to expose himself to whichever servant Kuo had posted to watch their meeting.

“Then why does Ward seem to think killing Danny is a bad thing? Couple years ago he probably would have asked when and where to be rid of such a company problem.”

Hm.. He believed Joy didn't know her brother as well as she thought. Ward was someone who hired people to take care of a problem and didn't ask how it was done. He wasn't someone who would take a life unless it was expressly threatening to destroy him. Harold kept pride for the challenge the boy exerted in his father's efforts to tame and manage his existence in relation to himself.

“Look, Dad, I'm ecstatic to see you again, really. But-”

“But? But what?” he interrupted, interfering in her weakening conviction. “We appreciate what needs to happen, your brother too. Ward is merely feeling indecisive, as he often does when he gets selfish. Recall the drug use. So irresponsible. And I won't let you follow in similar, irresolute footsteps because you think you need your brother's blessing to accomplish anything.”

She was frowning but listening. His strict lay of the law was effective on her. He could see Joy was mostly delighted to be having any sort of conversation with her father. She wanted to please him, impress.

Harold walked back a few steps and she automatically followed a little to get closer, moving out of sight of the window. He knew Kuo might just take an opportunity to be rid of them if it proved beneficial. A dead man and his daughter were potential loose ends to the young man he'd chosen to become a member of Heart. It was self-preservation which convinced him to tell the Heart leader that Joy was in town. He informed him he would go to see her, try to discover why she came back.

Of course he already knew. But he had to make himself appear useful and trustworthy. That was what this forged loyalty exercise was all about. Opening up various possible actions by listening and gathering information was working out so far. It was especially effortless to learn new things from random Heart servants here and there since Ward got himself mixed up with the “Defenders” of New York City. The criminally insane who fancied themselves heroes were not admired by Heart. Since Danny was among them, he assumed Ward would be safe in their hands for now.

“I don't know, Dad…” Joy began, “I feel partially to blame for what happened to Ward while I was away. I don't know what I could have done to stop Heart from threatening him into using Rand, but…”

“There. You said it yourself,” he calmly reassured. “Nothing you could have done. I didn't even stop them and I was right here in the city.”

She looked at him, becoming curious instead of listening.

“Heart might as well be the Hand still. They're hidden, powerful, and dangerous. We have to play our cards cautiously.” To be clear, he added, “We'll get Ward back when we kill Danny.”

“But maybe it's our fault Ward won't help us. Why he doesn't sound like he wants to be a family, the three of us. Dad, forcing him to keep the secret you were alive was horrible. Do you know what that did to him? Do you even care?”

Joy was normally good for cutting the hard deal, getting what she wanted in a business transaction. She could be manipulating him now, believing him naive to what she knew. He risked checking if Ward revealed anything to her concerning their more intimate relationship.

“Do you know what I did to him?”

“No…” Instant confusion broadcasting on her face let him know the knowledge was secure. “What are you talking about?”

“Then yes,” he responded confidently to her previous appeal. “Of course I care. You're my children. I love you, Joy.”

The specificity helped to persuade people. It got results from both business and personal relationships. People were easy to sway because they were usually dumb. They would care about the wrong thing or pay attention to an unimportant thing, making the handling all the more simplified.

“So many in this place are conniving, detestable models of humanity.”

They turned to the third individual in the room, who hadn't wanted to interfere with the familial reunion up to this moment.

“Uh huh. It's New York,” he posited.

The man was looking dour and dissatisfied, staring down into the street through the hallway window. Straightening in his chair when he noticed he had attention, he peered at Harold.

He decided to inquire into his history. “Your previous friendship with Danny Rand, it won't be an issue?”

“No. He abandoned his sacred duty as Iron Fist for his own selfish needs. The disrespect he has shown for his destined purpose has not gone unnoticed. While K'un-Lun wishes to avoid confrontation on the Earthly plane, they were willing to send me in their stead.”

“Right…” He put on a look of great intrigue and investment. “Joy said something about you being given some special power. Can it rival the mighty Iron Fist?”

“It will overcome.”

/

_TUESDAY, LATE AFTERNOON_

“I don't know. The needle was on the floor when I came to check and I can't get it back in.”

Who was that talking? Eyes fluttering, he peeled them open. Everything was so bright it hurt his eyes. He clenched them shut and tried again with better success. The white color wasn't as blinding now, and regaining his faculties, he realized he was lying down on a bed.

He sat up and found himself staring at a petrified nurse and startled doctor. Peering around the room, he discovered it was indeed a hospital room he was lying in. Luke rummaged through his brain to try and remember why he would be doing that.

“You idiot.”

Misty stood in the doorway of his room, bag of food in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other. She looked at the stunned medical staff, who slipped into their job descriptions once more when she gave them a hard stare. They approached his bedside.

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine. Thirsty, but fine. What am I doing here? What happened to me?”

He peeked down at himself when the doctor reached over to check his bandage. It was on his left chest and when the guy peeled it off, nothing but smooth skin. The man exchanged glances with the nurse and then studied Luke's arm before picking up the chart hooked to the end of his bed.

“Have you..experienced a hardening of skin in the past, Mr...Man..?” the doctor squinted at the sheet, frowning. “Macho..Man.”

Luke felt a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. The doctor looked at him, unamused. “That's not your name, is it?”

“Actually, it's Power Man,” he replied, grinning.

The doctor sighed and Misty came striding over, tossing the food bag onto the side table. “Move on. He's a personal guest of the hospital owner.”

Doctor and nurse simultaneously eyed her bionic arm, then pulled their eyes back up. The doctor met the questioning gaze of the nurse at his side, and then he excused himself to locate Luke's assigned doctor, nurse trailing him out of the room. Which left him and the detective.

“You bring that coffee for me?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Hell no. And I don't even wanna drink it.”

Taking a sip, she made an exaggerated face of disgust. “If only this were a cosmo.”

Luke surveyed the room. The extraordinarily nice room. “So this is Rand's hospital, huh?”

Misty wasn't looking for menial chatter. “What the hell you into?”

“I have no idea,” he answered, honest.

“Yeah, well, whatever you were doing, it got you stabbed and in a coma for a week.”

It was beginning to come back to him. A fight in a parking garage and some dick in a mask apparently messing him up. He wondered what happened after he blacked out. They'd stopped the exchange, right? He thought so.

“Whaa? What day is it?”

A hand went to her hip. “Tuesday.”

“That's what it was when I-Oh..got ya. Shit. A week, huh?”

She searched his face for a moment before asking, “Do you remember what happened? Claire said you were stabbed with a spear and it knocked you on your ass.”

He frowned in concentration, recalling the night in question. “Yeah, some of those people you clued me in on, well they were fronting, acting like they were dumb redneck racists but organized and trained fighters. Had weapons that could cut my skin.”

“Must have been something on that spear to hurt you like it did.” Misty pointed out. “You were in a coma, hooked up to an IV. That they could even insert the needle.. It was like you were a regular person, regular body.”

Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, waving aid off when she tried to reach out. He peered around for his clothes, spotting and going straight for them. Misty watched, raising both eyebrows.

“You're really all good?”

“Really.” Pausing with one leg in his pants, one out, he glanced up at her. “You wanna try shooting me? Make sure?”

She flicked her tongue on a lip in a brief tut, and spun on her heel to grab the bag of food. “Want some real food I bet.”

He slipped his t-shirt on and picked up the sweatshirt in one hand, walking across the room back to her. No doubt, he was interested in the food. Luke figured he probably should make sense of what went down, if anything, while he was out of commission.

“Danny find out why those people were bringing weapons into the city? Why different gangs were operating together?”

Surprise quickly replaced with annoyance fixed onto her face. “There was a weapons deal in that parking garage and your friends didn't think to tell me? I'm the one who dropped you the damn location.”

Luke shrugged and tried to joke, “Worried we're gonna get that third world war?”

But she didn't see humor in it, instead worrying. “Have you seen the news lately? There's some crazy awful stuff going on out there. The government and law enforcement agencies are making excuses, but if the Avengers are getting called in, that can't mean anything positive for the rest of us.”

He blinked at her. “ _How_ long was I out?”

She started to reply and he turned to pick up the bag to see what food was inside when he saw them. A couple Hispanic guys in leather jackets lurking way too obviously in the hallway outside his room. Without turning around, he kept his casual expression, and spoke.

“You bring your gun?”

“Of course I did,” she said, and stepped in front of him to get a straight view of the men. “Friends of yours?”

He allowed a small amount of amusement onto his otherwise stoic face. “Oh yeah, amigos from the good ol' days of parking garages.”

Misty looked sharply at him. “For real?”

“Yup.”

Two more guys in leather jackets appeared, meeting up with their buddies. He pondered on what their plan was supposed to be. That was assuming they had one. If they came at him with the same weak sauce as last time, they were just lining up to get their asses handed to them.

“We might have to fight our way out of here.”

“I'm a cop.”

“I'm a thinking they won't care. And don't even fret. These ones ain't shit.”

She put her hand on the back of her belt where the gun was holstered and covered by her jacket. “Nothing that can hurt you?”

Luke smirked. “Not even if they did their best.”

/

_TUESDAY, LATE AFTERNOON-FIVE WEEKS SINCE **TUESDAY**_

“My father said to me, 'if something is worth fighting for, you stand and you fight.'”

“Great. Should we be applying it here though?” Ward questioned.

They walked quickly together, in a hurry to reach the shipping yard where there was supposed to be a boat docking tonight. A boat belonging to Heart that Rand Enterprises was used to facilitate that very morning. But it was still afternoon so there shouldn't be anything to see. And if there was, would it be a good idea to race headfirst toward it?

There was nowhere near enough information to go on yet the “heroes” weren't interested in hesitating. They were eager to do violence unto bad guys, though he was aware Harold was the one Danny really craved destroying today. He could only hope these people knew what they were doing even when they were acting reckless.

The dedication to damaging Kuo on a permanent basis had to come close to how determined Danny was to get at Harold. Heart's leader orchestrated the past five weeks and was plotting countless other works in all probability. The both of them badly hurt him, and more importantly, Kuo threatened the lives of people they cared about. This wasn't going to end well for somebody and after rekindling the power Ward never knew was missing, Danny became boastful and confident.

“Enough of us getting hurt,” said Danny. “It's their turn to suffer.”

Just behind him, Jessica squiggled her face a little. “Not sure that should be our motto, but okay.”

Claire peered over at her tiredly. She had the look of someone who wasn't certain why she was here. “Matches my mood at least.”

He had a pointless moment of self-satisfaction for her exhaustion. It seemed only fair now that he was feeling well-rested after falling asleep during the video Kuo coerced them to watch. She drugged him because she decided it was easier for her than confronting directly concerning suspicions he was abused. Ward had a special kind of hatred in him for people who saw a problem and didn't say anything until it was way too late. He was biased with his own history, but nobody was keeping track anyway.

The beating heart was so peaceful. If he closed his eyes and remembered, recalling the warm pillow of the man who held him, it was the closest he'd been to completely safe and comfortable in what felt like forever. Instead of closing, his eyes traced the name on the slip of paper in his hand.

_Ot Kaub._

A brief call to Megan a half hour ago netted him the name and delivery schedule information. Order for shipment by boat to this CEO of a company Heart had him set up an account and finances for as investment worthy. It was supposedly for Rand's future interests, as all the other bogus companies he'd been forced to create accounts and backgrounds were listed as. Of course it was bullshit, and board members were being blackmailed to smoothly facilitate the hostile takeover of an organization nobody understood. But they didn't have to understand something to fear, and not knowing who was doing this to them scared them into absolute compliance.

He lowered the paper and froze. Matthew Murdock wasn't moving. The man had stilled and started listening openly, head tilting upwards. Ward didn't think this was good. What could he possibly be hearing?

His face turned sharply to speak clear to the remainder of them all walking in front of him except for Frank.

“Soldiers. Everywhere. They're surrounding the area.”

He was worried, that much was obvious. Ward had the impression it was because he was wearing plain clothes and his given identity. They already knew the blind lawyer who showed up with Danny Rand was Daredevil. The package wouldn't have been delivered to his home otherwise.

The vigilante could want to avoid the possibility of anyone else in public witnessing a blind man fighting like the famed hero of the streets. Matthew Murdock wanted to come though, while he had been extremely against coming. Going after Kuo's boat, and therefore intersecting with Kuo's followers, was low on his list of priorities.

Claire threw up her hands. “Great! And isn't _that_ the boat that's supposed to be coming in tonight?”

She was right. There was a large boat anchored to the dock just beyond the gate entrance they were approaching. It was too soon to be here. Unless...

Colleen was the first to see him. “Bakuto.”

The man she was addressing, finished stepping out the back of a semi truck. The sizable vehicle was parked between two buildings, mostly obscuring it from sight. His stomach clenched, insides tightening in response to his rising terror.

He smiled kindly. “It's Kuo. A new life, a new name.”

In return, she glared. “You think any of us believe you've changed?”

His smile and attention shifted to Danny. “You know what I want. Give it to me freely and this doesn't have to go any further.”

“He's not a what, he's a person.” Danny amended “And I'm going to destroy you for what you let happen. Heart, Hand..makes no difference. You will never win.”

“What I allowed to happen took place every night for more than a month. If you're looking to sort blame, perhaps reflect in the mirror for a time,” he responded, scanning the group assembled. “You people go out of your way to save a life, but what happens when you leave again? The world is a cold, unjust tragedy. And what was done to Ward Meachum is done to hundreds of thousands every year. There are countless more that go unreported. It's why my victory will be worthy.”

The younger man looked like he had an urgent need to do serious damage. “Ward's not a statistic! He's my friend and I-we, won't let you take him.”

He looked at the one of them the other Defenders were surprisingly appearing to defer to, and calmed a little when he saw the anger there. Gazing around at everybody who came to put a stop to Kuo's activities gave him courage. He believed in what Danny was saying for once. They _could_ fight.

At least three dozen men poured out of the back of the semi. It would be humorous, the sight reminiscent of a clown car gag, if each of them didn't look so damn threatening. He surveyed his company a second time. No match for these guys, yeah?

When Colleen stepped around Danny to grab his arm, he let her shuffle him off to the wall of a nearby building. Claire came with them and mustered a tough face as she monitored the other woman's return to the rest, hand gripping her sword handle.

“They're gonna mess those guys up and we're gonna stay here, hope nobody notices us. You cool with that?”

He blinked, aware a single answer was expected. “Sounds enlightening.”

The woman smirked. “Smart-ass.”

Violence broke out pretty much immediately after he and Claire put themselves on the sidelines. Danny, Colleen, Matt, Jessica, and Frank separated. When the soldiers in gray started repelling down the walls of buildings from above, Claire took his hand and pulled him along, running them across the open area for the opposite side.

They stood in front of the fence leading to the docks to oversee the fight. The nurse beside him appeared as nervous as he felt. Matching his personality, Danny had thrown himself into the midst of the followers from the truck. Ward could foresee he was trying to bulldoze through his opponents to get to their leader.

On the right and left of him, Matt and Colleen fought in rather different styles. The former assaulted enemies with a variety of kicks and punches, prioritizing speed and agility to render them disoriented. Colleen used her sheathed sword and a fist to attack, concentrating her whole being on total surrounding awareness and solid blows. He recognized the vastly improving technique in a fight as the one he never managed to do himself.

Hours of training by a Heart member and he couldn't utilize a single move because he was too abstracted, anxiety constricting his would-be offensive or defensive action. A few special close quarters combat tactics was all Owen wished he would be able to perform, and in training he would succeed. But thus far, under pressure time and again, he didn't. He endured life wracked with an inferiority complex he couldn't imagine ever not having in his mind.

A flip in which in mid-air, Matt kicked a guy in the face drew his attention. Simply astonishing. He tracked Danny's location amidst the numerous trained fighters and was enthralled by the sight of his glowing fist going to work. If he didn't see the power first-hand, he'd never accept it was possible. It was magic, had to be.

These days there were stories of people using impossible abilities in the news, but hearing and seeing were two very divergent things. The existence of the Avengers was viewed as the exception to any other, or as exaggerated tales by the majority. Mostly, the average person simply didn't care. If it didn't affect them, why should they bother paying attention?

Apathy expounded when most felt lost in mediocrity. They thought it was hard enough trying to find reason and sense in their personal lives, so avoiding stress of a world's problems became the easy choice. Kuo wasn't wrong about everything, just remarkably psychotic in his solution to the strain.

Frank and Jessica were keeping clear of one battle, confronting the enemy in masks and assault gear in another. Gear that included guns strapped to them. He searched the immediate space and didn't see any potential civilian interference, but remote as they were from the public eye for now, it wouldn't last if either side brought guns into the mix. He assumed Frank was carrying and pondered if the police arriving would be detrimental or beneficial.

“Ward.”

He turned toward the voice, knowing he should stop being surprised by Harold's behavior. Also, he knew he should evaluate his own responses to his father. But the history drove a wedge between emotion and rationality, leaving him incapable of a decision he could be happy with.

Right now, he was thinking on Danny's rallying words of fighting for what was worth it. And he was imagining how all of these strong people, near complete strangers in reality, learned how he was raped repeatedly as a grown and able-bodied man. The dangerous rage filling him delivered a brief warning into his conscious thoughts that he was bordering on snapping. He murdered his own dad when it consumed him the sole time it had.

Claire noticed Harold then, and her eyes grew big, hand reaching out to touch his arm. “Ward..?”

For a few seconds he twisted around to look at Danny. He watched him push into the air to land a kick into a man's chest, then spin airborne to thrust a foot into another. They went down and he marveled at his skill. Owen trained him in some skills. He could do the moves if he could concentrate.

“Ward,” Harold called to him. “Remember the plan.”

He fell off the deep end. Forgetting the man wasn't merely a crappy father who desired forever controlling his life, that he hurt him mentally and physically constantly. Forgetting he came back from death with inhuman strength and endurance cost him his sanity. Rationality fell away. He went for the bastard's throat.

Hatred and certainty he could stop him by using surprise advanced his unrelenting need to be rid of this pain. Ward couldn't keep himself going incessantly. There was a danger growing out there he couldn't see, but he felt it. The fear it caused pissed him off too.

The older man was surprised, taken to the ground when Ward barreled his entire body into him. He pulled an arm back and released a punch into his face. The connection was satisfying as was seeing his head snap away to hit the ground. He tried to recall a specific strike, a single pressure point to target, but distracted by Harold smiling up at him, he simplified to his original intention.

He put his forearm against the throat and pressed down as hard as he could, stopping breathing. The thought leaked into his mind that if he would have put his tie on before coming here, he'd like nothing more than to wrap it around a vulnerable neck to do the strangling. Ward heard someone draw near and glanced over his shoulder to find Claire standing a couple feet away watching.

She seemed stunned and uncertain, but not exactly regretful of what he was doing. Still, she was bristling, agitation evident in her shuffling steps in place. Where was Frank? He'd agree with zero doubts.

Ward returned his attention to his father when a hand cuffed him on the ear. While he bowed a little in pain, the other hand tightened into a fist and pummeled him in the side, twice. Already dealing with bruising, he crumpled, and it just all felt so easy to lose.

As he retreated from the danger by pushing himself free of the harmer, he scuttled across hard ground. He scrambled to climb to his feet and looked to Claire when she hurried to help him. Her hand had to have been inches to his arm and then he buckled and fell, smarting from the smack his dad delivered to the side of his lower leg.

“Ward!”

He swept himself around so he didn't have his back to Harold anymore, sliding backward to gain distance. The yard or so was covered too quickly by the other man and he barely had time to lift his hands for the next attack. There was an audible rap as his father cracked an open hand against the side of his face.

Goddamn he had to fight back. His senses were frayed, a haze of unclear sights and sounds filling his head. Repeat blows knocked him senseless but he could do something. He just had to recover. _Come on._

His urges to get it together didn't aid him fast enough. Harold loomed above and then he was stooping, gathering Ward up into his arms. He struggled but one of his arms was stuck against the front of his body and the other uselessly gripped his father's wrist.

The hand he refused to unlock his grip from came up to cradle his chin gently. His side pulled taut to Harold's front, he sought a way out. Why couldn't he think straight and remember his training? Why did he have to be so weak?

“Don't worry,” his dad assured. “Joy's going to take care of everything.”

He sobbed as the hand stroked his cheek in a soft manner.

“Let him go!”

Both their eyes trailed to the fence where Danny and the rest were standing. How long they'd been there he didn't know. It was all of them though, and they were a mixture of serious and mad. If he would be able to look around better from the position of his father's unwanted affectionate hold, he'd try to see where the bad guys had run off to. As it were, he had his own problems to focus on.

Ward fought to break free again and was startled when his dad released him, making him fall. He dragged himself away a few solid yards, hesitating to get to his feet while there were traces of his crying. His eyes were probably still rimmed red but at least his face wouldn't be wet thanks to wipes with a jacket sleeve.

He followed Harold moving toward the boat, men wielding guns on straps hanging over shoulders appearing on the deck. A man with short cut, graying hair came into sight, a pistol in hand. Danny and the others were striding purposefully closer, passing an apprehensive Claire as they headed for a second encounter.

There was the briefest sight of motion outside of his direct vision, partially behind and below him. He vaguely had time to parse out the alarm on a row of faces too far to react advantageously. The shadow grew as he stepped forward and turned to check the threat.

A choking noise puffed past lips as the side of a hand connected center mass to his back, preventing him from turning. Recuperating in pain, he continued trying to move, aware enough to know it was vital, and then a hand clamped over his mouth. His hands automatically rose to grab the offending arm and he felt a metal thing bump intentionally against his chest before receding. A downward peek informed the object was the blunt side of a sword and he should really quit struggling now.

Paralyzed, he stood stiff and distraught. If it was.. Why wonder? He knew who it was.

“Your friends are still being monitored so I'd rethink taking your next step, Danny Rand and allies.”

His self-proclaimed protectors faltered and drew to a halt at Kuo's reminder of the surveillance footage. Frank kept sidling closer and it didn't go unobserved. Especially when Danny and Matt began to risk it as well.

“They might not see them, but they're there.” Kuo went on, displeasure in his voice that he was not obeyed. “And do you really think knowing the danger is near will protect them from my assassins?”

Danny shook his head in disagreement and anger. “Why do you need him? Take me. If it's Rand you need, then you've got me. And if it's the Iron Fist you need for whatever, you got me.”

What the hell was he doing? Why would he do something as stupid as trade himself for him? Danny was the one who could fight while he was the pathetic mess incompetent to the point of helpless. He got himself recaptured by Heart in a matter of hours.

“I've invested in this one. He's smart. He'll understand the future is coming whether I have a hand in it or not.”

“What was all this for?” Matthew Murdock demanded. “Why bring those men here to fight, only to disappear again when some arbitrary time limit was reached? Were you testing our abilities? Our capability to work as a team? You must have plenty of data on that by now.”

“Testing a theory,” he replied. “You came rushing to find anything to do with me after seeing the horror of parental abuse Harold is excellent at exhibiting.”

Harold glanced at him. “Hey.”

A man was coming off the boat, walking past Harold to him and Kuo. He rattled a pair of cuffs in his free hand, pistol still gripped in the other. So he returned to the start of his hell or his sister and other innocent people would be killed. It wasn't fair.

Kuo let him go and he stared over the man he didn't recognize to Danny. “I'm sorry.”

He held out his arms and the cuffs clasped around his wrists, locked tight. Metal digging into his skin, he grimaced and narrowed his eyes at him. Unperturbed by his discomfort, Ward lowered his arms.

“Ready when you are boss,” the man told Kuo and started back to the boat.

“Thank you, Dominic,” Kuo responded and placed a hand on his shoulder to direct him also toward the boat. “Reconditioning should course-correct your misplaced empathy.”

Since Danny wasn't recklessly smashing people and things, he reckoned the man couldn't muster his power anymore. He'd like to believe Danny wouldn't let him be forced to go with the worst kind humanity had to offer, even when there was a threat hovering over them that those they cared about would die. The realist in him though, considered there was nothing to be done. Save one man he barely talked to, or keep his friends safe.

“Try to follow and I give the green light to my people.”

On board, Dominic led him to the other side of the boat. A couple guys with guns flanked him from behind. They were going to take him below deck. He put his best poker face on to hide the terror. What was going to happen to him?

If Danny wasn't willing or able to liberate him from a hellish existence, part of him wished he would just kill him instead. There was time for that yet and strangely he felt a small bit of hope inside. Ward understood in life sometimes there were no winners, only survivors. Maybe this future Heart believed in would be a world encompassing whoever was left standing. If that were the case, it wouldn't make a difference whether he was among them. That was no kind of living.


	18. Chapter 17: Insane Homeless Acrobat

**_“So, great! He's an insane homeless acrobat.”_ **   
**_-Ward Meachum_ **

_FRIDAY, NIGHT_

“Why don't you call your cop buddies if you're so concerned?”

Misty Knight's face tightened. “Look, I get this thing that's going on is miles outside the law's reach. But a man is missing and instead of reporting it, Rand lied to the company and said he was taking a few personal days!”

Danny spoke for Luke when the guy didn't seem inclined to be defending their actions. “Don't you think I know how serious this is? It's Ward.”

They were left standing on the edge of the water after the boat departed, wondering how the hell they'd screwed up. Colleen was the one who finally dragged him away from staring at empty waters, filled with self-loathing and regret. The others were gathered where the cars were parked, and when he wasn't quite sure what he would say amid his discouragement, Claire's phone rang.

It was Luke Cage asking what went down while he was in a coma that would lead a vengeful cartel to try and murder him openly in a hospital. The call gave his waning faith back instantly, so grateful was he for the good news. The friend being okay part, not the murder attempt.

“Where they've taken him has to be somewhere in the company's records,” he explained once again. “Patterson has the board blocking my request, preventing me seeing certain information. But Hogarth is working on it. We're applying pressure by suing and they'll have to allow access eventually. They have no grounds to keep it secret.”

Reluctantly, his girlfriend indicated the flaw in his logic. “Assuming Bakuto doesn't use old Hand locations we don't know about, or entirely new ones he's kept off books from his recent use of Rand Enterprises.”

“How long is that gonna take?” asked Claire.

He hesitated answering since he didn't actually know, and became distracted when there was a knock on his front door. They were laying low at the apartment he rarely occupied, waiting to learn any sort of information that would be useful concerning the impending threat the city was facing. There was still no shape to it, no real idea what the attack would be or when it would strike.

Colleen opened the door and Matt walked in with Frank right behind him. They'd gone in separate directions last he saw them at the shipyard three days earlier. He tried to believe the two of them together meant they had something.

A third man he didn't recognize followed the men into the apartment. He had a beard and a ski cap tugged over his head. It was pretty warm outside so that was fairly odd. Although he shouldn't be one to criticize when he padded around New York barefoot for a time.

“Who are you?” the private investigator interrogated, hostile.

She was the one who continually disappeared and reappeared after the battle on Tuesday when they lost Ward to Heart. Checking in to see if there was somebody's ass to kick before leaving again to try and find her own answers. Otherwise, Colleen and Claire were the only ones to stay as he struggled to come to terms with the outcome that occurred.

Claire stuck by him and Colleen, trying to figure out what might have affected them to take away his and Luke's powers temporarily, and to damage enough to make the latter comatose. He'd been surprised the nurse didn't go rushing off to see her boyfriend when learning he was awake and back to normal, but she hadn't. He didn't think it was because she didn't care.

“This is Micro.” Frank apprised, looking a tad miffed by her lacking welcome. “He's good with computers and managed to hack into Rand Enterprises' network.”

“Blowing whistles is kind of my thing,” the man said in lieu of a proper greeting.

Eager now, Danny queried, “So you can help?”

Matt closed the door behind them as the other two entered deeper into the apartment.

“I found a list of recently purchased properties and alarm bells pretty much went off immediately.”

He didn't follow up with what he discovered and Danny glanced around uncertain but mostly irritated, before wondering, “Are you awaiting an invitation? What?”

The man tried to get a peek into the kitchen area. “Do you have something to eat? I'm kinda hungry.”

Danny just looked at him.

Micro sighed and wandered in the direction of the kitchen. “Obaktu Enterprises. Heard of it?”

“No,” he said briskly. “Should I have?”

“Being Rand, yeah. You should really keep yourself better informed on your own company.”

The fridge opened and the sound of rifling through what few items were in there reached his ears. Impatiently, he crossed his arms and stood by, convincing himself it would be worth the delay. Meanwhile, Frank took a seat in one of the chairs, meeting Jessica's cold stare and sharing a matching expression. Great, so they were both unhappy. Could they cut it out now?

“Last few days, _a lot_ of money has been transferring into accounts of companies belonging to that umbrella corporation. Most people won't know the name Obaktu Enterprises and for good reason. It didn't exist until this week.”

Micro emerged from behind the fridge door, pizza box in hand. Shutting the fridge, he tossed the box onto the counter and popped the lid open. He removed a slice and took a cherished bite, slow and savoring. Danny thought about beating the words out of him but then he apologized.

“Sorry. I haven't eaten in a while. I get lost sometimes when I'm into the hacking stuff.” Preventing himself from taking another bite before telling them more, he continued. “So I dug and found the CEO names to be enlightening if you pay attention to them. Kuo Abt, Tou Bak, Bu Kato, Bo Taku, Ot Kaub...”

From her spot leaning against the wall near his television, Colleen questioned, “You think he's being held at one of these properties?”

Jessica was the first to pick up on it. “Obaktu also. Anagrams of Bakuto.”

She was a sharp woman, even when she was being aloof and disinterested, or else pretending to be.

The man hummed in agreement, mouth full of cold pizza. Matt stopped lingering by the door and joined them, sitting on the couch next to Claire and Luke. He explained it away as the man trying to get a feel and sense of everybody and everything in the room before walking into it. The guy was smart and careful after all.

“Harold Meachum's on his way up.”

His announcement dispelled that notion.

Frank stood. “He'd have to be crazy to show up here.”

Lips thinned, edges curving downward, Matt attested, “He _is_ crazy.”

Danny completely agreed with Matt but also Frank. Why would he come to them when everybody in this room wanted to rip his head off? Last they saw, he was getting on the damn boat Ward was being kidnapped away on!

“I'll handle this,” he declared, squaring off with the doorway.

The devil of Hell's Kitchen listened. “He's here.”

Frank strode straight to the door and swung it open. “You. Here. Now.”

The rage was rising. He paid special attention to his breathing to reach calm. If he killed Harold, they wouldn't be able to beat the information of what was done to Ward out of him.

An apprehensive Harold appeared in his line of sight, halting in the precise spot Frank designated. Healthy, dressed in a deep blue dress shirt and black suit, jacket open. He seemed fine, untroubled despite the nervous tension he played toward the soldier casting shadow above him.

“How did you find this place?” asked Danny aggressively.

The unwelcome visitor looked across the room at him like he was an idiot before replying, “It's listed as your official address. That makes it public record for the company.”

He made another conscious effort to reach tranquility. “Tell me where Ward is.”

“That's what I've come here to do if you'll just let me through the door.”

Danny eyed him suspiciously. “Why should I believe you?”

Harold sighed like it was indignant to be left standing outside the apartment. “He's my son. I want what's best for him. The boat reached its destination and then afterward I wasn't allowed to see Ward. They took him away from me and I can't abide such blatant disrespect.”

The look of scorn Claire sent his way was chilling. She wasted no time in marching up to him and jabbing his chest with a pointed finger.

“What's best for him?” she prodded incredulously and said accusing, “Everything you've ever done was for yourself. I'll bet the only reason you're even here right now is because you don't like that there's someone else controlling and manipulating your son.”

“Well of course not,” retorted Harold. “It's distasteful. He's mine.”

Matt settled into comprehending the man wasn't aware they saw the kind of treatment he applied to fatherhood. He did this by standing to stare him in the face and deliver statements as fact, doing some analysis of his reasoning.

“We know you abuse your son so he'll keep obeying you. Make him feel worthless without your guidance, your presence. You prey on his loneliness the very isolation you put him in causes. You would never let anyone lay a finger on Ward if you could prevent it.”

“Oh, the boy was just confused.” Harold imagined falsely. “What? Did he complain how I won't let him live his own life?”

It was remarkable how Danny could see the clear fictitious spin he added to everything that came out of his mouth. Now that he knew what the elder Meachum was, it was easy. A murderer, an abuser, a liar.

Harold paused, reconsidering what Matt said to him. “Oh wait, are you agreeing with me? Good. Yes, I want to help you get him away from this Heart group.”

Claire slapped him audibly across the face. She followed it up with a punch that sent him stumbling back, clutching his nose. Blood streaming freely from the body part, he lowered his hands and smirked at her.

“You found out we have sex.”

Calm would have to come a different day. It would seem Frank was feeling similar. Taking hold of his jacket he dragged him closer and angled them so the despised man was inside the apartment, surrounded by a bunch of angry people. Harold peered mildly into the serene fury on his assailant's face.

Danny thought there was a likelihood he actually didn't know the man's identity. Maybe it was true he and Kuo weren't real allies, but that didn't really provide comfort. He noticed Matt shifting in place, possibly preparing to act to prevent Frank from snapping a neck or caving a skull in.

But the Punisher proved to have control over himself and threw the guy away from him, into the apartment. Harold tumbled roughly across hard floor onto carpet, stopping short of Matt's feet by inches. He got up to his feet again like nothing much happened, turning to the anticipated blowback from the violent man.

“You don't hurt your children!” Frank screamed, hands balled into fists. “You're supposed to protect them. You don't ever hurt them!”

Undisturbed, he looked calmly back. “You may hate and want to kill me, but you should at least believe I wouldn't want my son to die. You need me.”

Micro piped up from the kitchen, appearing perplexed. “I'm sure I'm missing something here, but that guy does have a point. I narrowed the locations down, but we don't have the exact one.”

“I can take you there.”

“You'll tell us which one it is.” Colleen decided. “We're not taking you with us.”

“Then I won't tell you.”

Danny forced a grin although he didn't feel like smiling. “Yes you will. Because it's like you said. You want to save your son, right?”

He was pleased when he observed he now had the man fuming. Anticipating receiving an address, Micro shoved the pizza box aside and removed the heavy looking bag slung over his body. He put it on the counter and undid the zipper to pull out a laptop. Opening it, he switched the device on.

Harold watched him do it before begrudgingly sharing, “Tou Bak. The warehouse property purchased in Brooklyn.”

After a moment, Micro's fingers tapped along the keyboard. Awaiting the results, Danny fixed a glare onto Harold. The man was attempting to put more distance between him and Frank yet by the door. Matt shook his head and ordered him to stay standing where he was instead.

Examining him and Frank, before resting on Matt again, he smiled. “Knew my son didn't hire a third rate lawyer like you.”

It was beneath him to acknowledge the derision but Jessica was joyful to do it for him. She strolled up to the overconfident asshole and without warning until it happened, kneed him in the groin. For good measure, she nailed the same spot a second time to be certain he was affected. The double hit did the trick and he sank to his knees clutching the injury with a groan.

“I catch wind of so much as a rumor you raped your kid again, that you even just thought the idea, I will kill you.”

Her vow was sincere and deadly serious. He admired her for it and echoed the sentiment. She stalked away again to stare out the window lost in personal thoughts.

“You say or do anything I think means betrayal, I'll end you,” threatened Danny. “Or if Ward asks me to do it, I'm going to kill you.”

“Danny!” Claire, Colleen, Misty, and Matt practically exclaimed simultaneously.

He knew three of them didn't want anyone to be murdered. Their moral stances wouldn't allow for it.

Colleen was with him and felt similarly affronted, but when it came to actual cold-blooded murder, it was difficult to engage the follow-through. She claimed days earlier to want to kill Harold for his evil actions. Commitment to an execution never quite resembled the steely conviction necessary to make it happen.

Harold narrowed his eyes at him, picking himself up off the floor. “I don't know why I ever believed you could be worth anything.”

He scoffed. “You never did. You manipulated and used me to get rid of the Hand for you. Your greedy scheming turned both of your children against you. Two people who loved you.”

His cockiness returned. “Did it?”

Matt placed a hand on the man's shoulder, stepped backward a couple steps, and then spin kicked him in the head. The blow knocked him out cold, lying him flat on the carpet, and the lawyer sat down casually on the couch. Luke studied the scene for a moment, raising his eyebrows at the blank look on the hero's face.

“Show off.”

Micro chuckled uneasily before slipping into a congratulatory mood. “Got an address. Guess we're hoping he wasn't lying.”

He wrote on a slip of paper and handed it to Frank as the man came over. Luke seemed happy there was somewhere to go and stood to pat Misty on the shoulder.

“Alright. You get our friends into protective custody so they can't be targeted again like we discussed. Station for now, and then someplace more long-term.”

She sighed skeptically. “Right. Cause you people have no clue how long this might go on. Very reassuring.”

Casting a final look among the assembled creating grief in her life, she glanced down at her replacement arm before leaving. It sounded like she might have been mumbling about how the hell she was supposed to answer the inevitable questions thrown her way by the persons she was meant to keep safe. Not an invalid protest.

Claire blocked the open door partially with her body, perhaps subconsciously as she faced Luke.

“What if what happened to you guys before happens again? You could die.”

Luke beamed cheerily. “If I see a masked guy, I'll punch him in the face before he can do anything. Problem solved.”

“No.” Her stare was the opposite of soothed. “No... Problem not solved, Luke.”

Danny was working on the right thing to say when Frank spoke up, peeking into Micro's bag.

“Don't worry. We'll let you have some eyes on. Micro's gonna stay behind with you.”

“I am?”

“Yeah you are. We're gonna use your little drone.”

His expression revealed his discontent with the terminology. “It's a multi spectrum aerial drone. Extremely expensive and high-end surveillance equipment which you know.”

“Uh huh. Don't care.”

Frank peered across the room at Claire. “He's got a gun in there too. Keep an eye on Harold and keep him here.”

Hesitantly, she considered being able to watch their progress from afar and caved. “Okay. But all of you, be careful and don't do anything too stupid.”

“There are six of us. This will be a cakewalk.” Jessica promised.

/

_FRIDAY, LATE NIGHT_

“Chaos might be a more apt description than cakewalk.”

“Shut up, Murdock.”

Matt pressed himself flat against a wall and Jessica copied his movement. Then she took a moment to get cheeky.

“Does anyone ever see you when you're out there playing hero and think you're just some gymnast gone insane, playing superhero?”

Arriving in time to hear her idea of funny, Frank laughed, low and amused. “I thought something like that the first time Red showed up kicking ass.”

He rolled his eyes, squirming briefly in his suit. “How many?”

“Micro's drone picked up at least a dozen more guys with semi-automatics. I figure I'll take a roof position and do some sniping, thin the herd for you.”

“Alright,” he reluctantly concurred. “Then we'll go in together. Hopefully the others found their own way in that's a little less risky.”

Jessica leaned closer. “You know, they say you should never go full costume.”

His jaw stiffened. “Pretty sure it's a smarter idea than running around not even bothering to hide who you are.”

She shrugged. “I like people being afraid of me.”

“Sure you do-Frank!”

But the man was already jogging away to retrieve his hidden equipment and get to shooting. Sometimes it was necessary to use such tactics he reminded himself. There were too many guns this crime boss liked to use. Some digging on Karen's part told him Dominic Calburn was of Scottish origin and involved in gambling and smuggling rings for over twenty years. He was no stranger to protecting his merchandise and hideouts.

Jessica surveyed the man's progression until he vanished from sight and looked to him. “So..do we wait or...?”

/

“Wait!”

Harold stared at the pleading face dispassionately. His supposed guard were morons. He'd disabled their power over him in what amounted to be sixty seconds at most.

Judging by the time read on his wristwatch, he'd been unconscious less than twenty minutes. He woke to find everyone gone but the twitchy fellow and the weary nurse. The fellow absorbed in his computer screen, that left the woman to contend with.

When the nurse noticed he was awake, she drew his attention to the gun in her hand and warned him she'd shoot him at the first sign of funny business. He sniggered and reached to his ankle, inquiring what she would do if he had a gun of his own. As expected, she panicked and enforced her threat by moving closer. He'd jabbed his foot against her leg making her lose balance and swiped the weapon from her loosened grip simple as that.

It was only a matter of knocking her out, his stirring anger awakening the longer he was awake and displeased, which he did do. Swinging the gun into the side of her head connected harder than he intended but he didn't linger much on the thought. He watched her fall, hitting the floor at a harsh angle, and pondered hitting her again. The bearded man at his computer reacting in astonishment at the sudden alteration in the situation was the sole reason he forgot about beating her further.

“Killing me would be very stupid,” the man, whose name he didn't know, began his case to live. “I'm a friend of Frank Castle's and he'll slaughter you if you kill me.”

He rummaged in his mind for why the name was significant and pinpointed it. “That man was Frank Castle? Ah..of course...”

There had been no shortage of news on the various mass murders when former soldier Frank Castle ran rampant throughout the city. Yet another one of these so-called heroes who believed their personal tragedies granted them license to enforce their own moral ethics on the streets. A bunch of crazies in his opinion.

“Didn't think he was interested in protecting lives.” Harold contemplated aloud. “More interested in taking the lives of those he deemed punishable.”

“You don't know Frank,” the man said boldly. “While he might have walked away before, now he knows you hurt your own kid, he's not going anywhere until he destroys you people.”

“Understandably you seem a bit confused,” he said, smug. “Must be new. I don't serve anybody. And I don't do sorry.”

Harold fired the gun, watching the man collapse, a spray of blood painting the front of the fridge. He cocked his head sideways, examining the sight. He posed a question to the empty air and silent apartment, eyes gleaming.

“What would you do if you found out you could live forever?”

/

“Dad...?”

It must be too hard for him to see properly. The right eye was fully swollen shut and the left didn't look much better. He wasn't afraid at all from what he could surmise. Harold took it as a grim indication.

He struggled to pull the boy to be seated upright against the storage room wall. Ward was a mess. Absolutely covered head to toe in blood and bruising. The disturbing colors stood out a stark contrast to the white hospital scrubs he'd been put in fairly recently by the clean condition.

“It's me.”

The victory he'd felt at easily slipping into the warehouse via a side door because of the distraction presented by the do-gooders was fading. In its place, he was furious Kuo would do this to a supposed ally, and Harold's flesh and blood. It was obvious there was nothing for Ward but torture and imprisonment during the past three days he was taken from the dock against his will.

There were electrical burn marks amongst the scattering of lacerations, welts, and bruises. It was so bad, he could hardly distinguish his own reminders from the new. He slapped him across the cheek a few times to try and get his chin to stop drooping onto his chest.

The singular benign thing was the facial hair growth. That and the general filth of dirt, sweat, and layers of dry and wet blood coating him provided evidence of the ill-care he'd received for days. Harold worried Kuo somehow knew he'd called upon the “Defenders” to rescue his son and that was the explanation for the change in clothes. He could have realized they were coming. But what was the Heart leader thinking? What were his intentions?

“Ward, stay awake. Come on. We have to go.”

“Dad...?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

He started to put one of his arms around his shoulder but a cry of distress and pain halted the act. Switching to the other side, he tentatively reached out to lift the limb. Fortunately it didn't cause him enough pain to protest the jostling. Harold ducked beneath the boy and then raised them both up to stand.

Ward immediately buckled, barely conscious let alone capable of standing well. His breathing was persistent labored wheezing with every inhale. There had to be internal damage he couldn't see.

Supporting the entirety of his weight against his side, he started them toward the door. It was slow moving and as they finally reached the area beyond the door where the dead guard was, he paused. At this rate they would never make it to his car unnoticed.

With little else to do, he used a hand across his slumping chest to push him upright better and continued on. He listened to the painful breathing and told himself it was fine. The legacy would live on. He wouldn't have it any other way.

/

“Danny says there's no sign of Ward on their end.”

Matt turned his head in Jessica's direction before sharing his own bad news, gesturing to the sullen appearance of the man in black. “Frank lost contact with Micro and the drone. He wasn't really paying attention to it once we got inside. Isn't sure when it went down.”

Jessica shrugged, pocketing her cell phone. “Maybe one of these assholes got off a lucky shot.”

He shook his head. “Unlikely. Micro's not picking up his phone and I tried Claire. She's not answering either.”

“Bag of dicks,” she muttered under her breath.

Searching the immediate area, he didn't hear any sounds nearby, only distant fighting that would be their friends. Wait. He tilted his ear, catching a scraping noise and then there... Two beating hearts. One was strange, the other was weak, slow to a dangerous level.

He threw an arm to direct his companions to follow its trajectory. “I think Kuo might be on the other side of that door, mid-way to it. Someone in bad shape is with him. Could be Ward.”

Jessica flexed her hands and arms. “Well alright. 'Bout time.”

She kicked the door and instead of merely bursting open, it jolted off its hinges and smacked into the wall of the dimly lit corridor. Glancing over her shoulder, she shrugged with an exaggerated “oops” expression for him. His interest lay past her though, and he began walking to the doorway.

“Harold,” the name issued from his lips and he switched the surprise to anger. “What..?

The anger evaporated just as quickly, identifying the half-dead heartbeat belonged to Ward. He did nothing and stepped aside as they left the corridor to enter the larger room. Frank opted confrontation and shoved Harold away, his other hand firmly holding the mess of a man upright by a tight grip on oddly clean clothes.

“You don't touch him.” Frank dictated, voice harsh.

He slid an arm behind his legs and lifted, swinging the near unconscious man into his arms. Harold didn't seem to mind and backed off to appease them. No doubt he sensed the collective hostility directed his way.

“I did what I did to save my boy,” he said, sounding as though he was rationalizing, defending.

Matt grew concerned with the friends they set to watch him. What would they find when they got back? They had both better be okay.

His attention diverted when he heard the sixth heartbeat.

A man dressed in ninja attire stood on the other side of the room silently. He was observing them, unmoving. Until he took in the horrible condition of the man cradled limply in Frank's arms. Matt could sense it in the change of pattern in his breathing, quickening of his heart rate. He cared about Ward.

Approaching them with caution, the ninja said, “I will show you the wisest exit out of here.”

He didn't bother asking why they should trust him. They would take their chances and so follow him they did.

The journey through the dark warehouse was quiet and fast. Only the distressing sound of Ward's repetitive, gasping breaths disturbed them. He couldn't hear the noise of Danny and the rest either.

Their impromptu guide pushed open a door and some light from the spotlights stationed surrounding the compound cast inside. He peered out, surveying the path ahead before turning to face them. His heart rate was steady again but his voice was shaky.

“You've taken out a significant number tonight, but they are soldiers, and more will come.”

Judging by the silence that fell over this place, he thought it was possible they'd managed to take out every one of them here. That was no small feat and this man believed it to be a minor defeat. Kuo must have a plan and they were in the dark

Matt asked the question he'd held back before. “Why did you help us?”

A lengthy pause and then, “I've lost my faith.”

He stepped outside and held the door wide. “Go. The way is clear.”

Jessica headed out first and Frank carrying Ward stayed close behind her. Matt hesitated, turning to see where Harold was loitering. The absence of a scent forced him to concentrate and understand the heart was missing too.

His right hand balled into a fist and slammed against the wall. The ninja drawn to the violent motion was staring at him. He walked heavily out the door and fidgeted with the mask on impulse.

“Harold's gone,” he announced crossly.

He blamed himself for not paying attention and wasn't thrilled to find his declaration was in time for the other half to hear. The three were out there, not far, coming closer. They were healthy, two of them somewhat out of breath, but fine. And they'd heard the shit news of his inability to keep track of one man.

Matt noted the ninja went back inside the warehouse and didn't bother mentioning it or pursuing. What good would it do?

He focused on his friends, observing Frank was setting Ward down on the ground, Danny kneeling beside them. Luke and Colleen were having expected reactions to the tortured body and he didn't want to hear it. One of his few solaces taking on the mantle of Daredevil was concealing his identity and injuries. He dealt with them alone unless absolutely necessary to call on Claire to help because he hated being seen weak, vulnerable. Ward was the same in that way. He'd rather nobody ever know his traumas than to endure them brought into the light where they could be pitied, judged, conjectured upon.

Danny's breathing was shifting, changing. His complete focus was a requirement for the healing process to work, or so he'd been informed. He was never actually present at a time the guy did such a thing. But he did believe it could be possible. Matt's ability to speed up his body's recovery processes allowed him to already be open-minded. After Elektra was brought back from the dead, he was open to a lot more fantastical ideas, even when before she returned, he'd been made aware of such a possibility existing with the Hand.

A smile touched his solemn expression as he was listening to Ward's slowed pulse normalize. The queasy sound of blood leaking inside where it shouldn't, vanished, and the breathing quieted to natural intakes. He was talking, murmuring to Danny how he knew he was an insane homeless acrobat, but he was amending to insane magic acrobat. The relieved laughter others gave in return relaxed him.

They could chalk this up as a win.


	19. Chapter 18: Proud of You

_**“You know, if it helps any, I think Harold would have been crazy proud of you.”** _   
_**-Danny Rand** _

_SATURDAY, MORNING_

“It probably won't make you feel better, but they're not normal. When they revive using the substance, they come back stronger and harder to hurt. A regular guy like you wouldn't have much of a chance.”

Ward stared at the kitchen cleaned of blood, hearing Danny's reassurance, and still seeing red fluid like it was there. Professional cleaners were called to take care of the mess and no visible trace remained. But the former scene didn't change in his mind because to him it left another stain Harold was directly responsible for.

The injured man named David was fortunate to have a nurse with him. David, who he learned later was the “Micro” informant utilized by the Punisher, took a bullet courtesy of his dad. Harold shot him in the upper arm close to the armpit. They arrived at Danny's apartment the previous night to find his injury tended to by Claire, who was more upset about it than he seemed. He'd taken a pretty good bump to the head when he fell as well.

On the return journey, Danny got a call from Claire, and he arranged for further treatment to be taken care of at the hospital he owned. That was that.

These people were very casual regarding acquired injuries. David even refused Danny's offer to heal him once he was recovered himself. Apparently healing someone else meant he required a day or so before he could put the power to use again. It was baffling how they accepted things in stride.

“Yeah, but I barely fought back at all,” he admitted, deliberating in his head if he was too dramatic of a person. “I freeze up around him...”

He made himself look away from the kitchen and shifted in the comfy chair. Used to be he just had to worry about what his dad might do or think or say. Now his eyes were wide open and he could witness the commonality of cruelty all around him.

Something told him Kuo would create epic levels of disaster if his knowledge on the plot he was cooking up remained unmitigated. This was a scary life they led. He didn't understand how they did it or why they chose it.

Danny plopped down comfortably on the chair opposite his own. “Harold?”

A nod. Faking he was okay wasn't easy. He already felt an incredible burden to them. Ward was gracious to have their help at the same time. He no longer was assessing his status and livelihood from the date of his father's reappearance. Once they came for him in that warehouse, saved him from continued torture and degradation, he believed they wouldn't give up. People he hardly knew risked themselves to pull his ass out of a shithole for Danny. It was inspiring.

“He's your dad. It's... Family's hard.”

Not quite the most enlightening of explanations, but an accurate one. He studied the other man. They were alone in the apartment. Colleen went along with Claire to accompany Frank and David to the hospital last night, and the rest went on to their respective lives. For now.

“Harold isn't the problem. I have no doubts he will be. But not now. Kuo has people everywhere and is using Rand to bring more into the city. We need to figure out how they're gonna pull it off.”

“Pull off what exactly?”

Honestly, he was surprised everyone he'd met so far wasn't breathing down his neck for answers. They had the justified anger and the motivation to do. That was miles above himself. He wasn't angry, the past days of maltreatment taking it out of him. At present, he was just tired and ready to change whatever was necessary to stop getting what he kept getting.

“For starters, I'm pretty sure he has plans to destroy New York or take control of it.”

Danny made a face. “Great. I'd like one year where someone affiliated with the Hand wasn't trying to do that.”

He laughed. “Same.”

Guilt washed over him. He was probably the reason Kuo was putting his plans into motion. Technically the man would be in the process of doing so whatever Ward might have chosen. But the fact remained he chose helping Kuo instead of resisting anymore. It was his fault Heart was using funds and masquerades directly connecting to Rand Enterprises. Their plans were possibly sped up and more dangerous because of the company's aid.

That reason made the most sense.

“What are you thinking about?”

Pulled out of his self-absorption, he smoothly blanked his expression. “Nothing.”

Danny informed, “You're constantly looking impatient or grumpy.”

“That's just around you. You're my headache.”

“I've heard Joy complain you look like you have a stick up your ass half the time.”

A smile threatened to appear on his face, reminiscing on times when his sister did tell him that very thing to earn a surprised reaction out of him. She knew how to make him happier. He remembered how hateful Joy was when he saw her only a few days earlier and the threat of a lightened expression vanished. There was really nothing to smile about.

“Bet she doesn't think that now,” he guessed bitterly. “Harold revealing himself to be alive all those years let her in on the little secret of my burden.”

Danny smiled at him eagerly. “How's Joy? She went to the police station when Misty notified her of the possible danger on her life. I should go to see her.”

Yeah… He should, except that it could be what she wanted to then try and make her move with her new associate. They had to have something plotting to think they could murder a guy with freakin' magic power. He didn't tell Danny though, because he likely wouldn't believe it and would go running off to visit her. Not only that, but a part of him thought Joy wouldn't go through with an attempt and would realize the error in judgement.

“I wouldn't,” was all he said.

This man had a weird ratio of innocence and violence. What the heck did those monks do to him in K'un-Lun?

He was being speculated on. Normally in the past, the younger man was too distracted by his own concerns and trials to figure out personal dilemmas to do that to him. He maintained unreadability.

“I've been meaning to apologize to you.”

Ward arched an eyebrow skeptically. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The other seemed somewhat uncomfortable, altering his position moderately and then switching to how he was sitting in the first place. He settled for an adjustment of leaning back in the chair.

“I should have never left. I should have stayed and helped run the company.”

“What are you talking about? You had to go. You're supposed to guard K'un-Lun or whatever, right? So you had to go and check on it. Which..you never did tell me anything I really understood. Somehow it was gone? How does a place go missing?”

“It's not wholly of this plane of existence,” he answered quickly before prioritizing the apology again. “And your entire family left you alone all at once. It wasn't right.”

He put a smile on. “It's not a big deal. I'm not a kid and you got rid of Harold.”

“I thought I did.” Danny uttered with a ruminating frown.

There was a solid point. They thought they'd eliminated a shared foe and were both wrong. It was laughable. He guessed they each believed they bore responsibility for his escaping the flames of the furnace. Harold would find it hilarious that he affected them so absurdly. Ward felt like such an idiot to also allow his dad to win imagined victories.

“I know I don't always..'get' things, but… Joy isn't okay is she?”

Ward met his gaze. “No, not really.”

The man nodded, thinking. “She doesn't trust you or you don't trust her.”

Caught by surprise, he stared, eyes widening. “How do you figure?”

He smiled at what Ward now realized was an assumption to gauge his response. A correct assumption. The smile lessened as he devoted to being sensitive. He was just glad nobody handled him with kid gloves after discovering he was a rape victim and a victim of parental abuse.

“Joy would want to be where you are, wouldn't she? It's been some time since she saw you.”

“She does want to be-Oh.” He stopped himself and frowned as he understood what was happening. “You wanted to know if it was true, and then which of us was the problem, and I just told you.”

“Yeah, sorry. You're not great with sharing your serious thoughts or feelings.”

“You should have seen me when I was mixing drugs and alcohol. Miserable bliss.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“No, it didn't, and it was wonderful. The one time I could forget what Harold wanted from me and give him a middle finger while I was at it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Sorry-Ah...”

“ _You_ didn't control and manipulate me to serve your own ends. Don't be sorry.”

Hesitation. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“It's just.. Uh, you don't misuse drugs anymore do you?”

He held the sigh so badly wanting to leak out in his response. “I swear.”

“Okay… Drugs fog the mind, adversely affect your chi.”

Fine. Guy liked honesty. He would get honesty.

“When Harold showed up in my bedroom alive and well and looking for payback, yeah, for the first time in a long time I thought about getting my hands on something. Anything to make it easier to deal with, you know? But Marcus wiped that urge right out of my mind by using a muscle relaxer to torture me.”

He contemplated if it was the intention of Heart all along. Somehow his instinct was to disagree with the possibility. It felt more likely to have been a “happy” accident.

Danny looked like he wished he'd never asked. There was actual rationality behind why people usually told small lies to each other. If someone said the exact truth every time, no filter, it would repel them away. Human beings generally craved love and comfort above all the rest. Pure truth in a flawed world from a flawed human was impossible to be nice always.

“I want to teach you to meditate. Can I show you?”

What did he miss? He glanced around in case somehow it would provide a clue to his puzzlement. Was this pity? He didn't want pity.

“You're kidding, right?”

He had to hand it to the guy. Danny was adept at making him forget about his fears. It always became confusion and annoyance.

Ward watched him get up and walk over, gesturing to stand like him. He tugged at the collar of the shirt that wasn't his to mask discomfort. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweats that belonged to Danny.

“If you start getting mean I'm gonna know you're hiding something.”

His eyes narrowed. He was intentionally toying with him, making himself look reasonable and Ward the asshole. Maybe he was spending too much time with other people and it was teaching him how to influence.

The exploitation itself didn't impress him, even coming from Danny. The business world was full of manipulators who did it for a living. No, he was impressed to find the man trying such a tactic was what worked on him to go along with it.

“Meditation,” he considered out loud. “That can help you concentrate?”

“It requires you to clear your mind, so yes.”

Ward moved to rise from the chair and the other man backed away to give him room. He crossed to a table near the window where he had a music player and speakers set. Switching the player on, he turned to stare as loud hip-hop music filled the apartment.

“Aren't you supposed to have silence or listen to soft, calming music?”

Danny took a seat on the floor by the window, back to the sunlight filtering in. “Do you _want_ nothing but silence or quiet music to leave your mind open?”

It didn't seem good to him at all and so he replied quickly, “No thank you.”

There had been nothing _but_ thinking about the pain he was in, the pain he would be in, and what might happen next while he was locked in that storeroom. He would rather avoid his thoughts returning to the last few days. He'd also prefer to avoid the last month and a half from lingering too long in his head.

The man didn't sound like he wanted to think on certain things either from how he asked the question. That made him ponder Danny instead. Was he happy to make New York his home again? Did he miss what had to be a second home to him at all? Where was it? Why was he caring?

Sitting down on the floor near the subject of his thoughts when he couldn't delay any further, he looked to him.

When he did, Danny shifted to face forward and closed his eyes. Adjusting his posture and leg arrangement to try and match the practiced one of them, he made a conscious effort to still.

“Am I supposed to picture fluffy clouds or rainbows or something?” he queried dryly.

“Do you _want_ to picture fluffy clouds or rainbows?”

“No-Stop doing that!”

The other man opened his eyes to peer his way, vision glittering with mirth. Goddamn… He cracked a smile.

Danny smiled back, saying, “The music was a thing I could hold onto when I was away from my former home life. You and Joy were my focus to get me through difficult circumstances.”

He blinked, feeling a bit bewildered by the claim. “Really?”

His eyes slid shut and he returned to his previous position. “Yes. Now this is simple. Close your eyes and breathe naturally.”

Fighting the reluctance to close his eyes in front of anyone, he adopted the posture and closed them. He tried to block out the music and concentrate solely on his breathing. It felt loud. Was he hitching his breath? It seemed too fast. He worked to slow the air passing in and out but then he was stopping and starting from all the focus.

“You're thinking too hard.”

Embarrassed, he fought to correct himself and that made him think harder. Feeling stupid, he began to open his eyes and give up when a hand came to rest on his forearm. He froze but squeezed his eyes shut again and waited.

“Breathe. Don't think, just do.”

A snarky comment immediately came to mind on how that was Danny's life philosophy and it showed. Ward held his tongue. It wouldn't kill him to keep his mouth shut for five minutes.

He had his mind listen to the music so it would stop paying obsessive attention to his breathing. After a few moments, he realized it was working. It was easy to relax despite the volume of hip-hop in the background.

“Good. Focus on the breathing, the natural inhale and exhale,” he told him.

Ward did as he said.

“Concentrate on what gives you strength. I meditate to recharge my chi, regain my power. Your power can be whatever you want it to be. Find your own.”

His forehead crinkled. What was that supposed to be? He knew he wished to keep his emotions from holding him back. The training techniques he was taught were useless if he couldn't focus enough to recall and put them into action. This was what he wanted to achieve.

The concept was like a vapor, slipping from his grasp before he could get a firm hold. He didn't want to win. He wanted to be safe, to remain free. What was there to believe to succeed at such a goal? What mattered the most?

Minutes passed peacefully like this. He allowed thoughts and images to come and go, avoiding solidifying a single one for the sake of maintaining a quiet mind. A thought on why he didn't try something easy as letting go of tension and stress in this way sooner passed through and released out of consciousness.

“Are we interrupting a photogenic moment?”

Hearing Colleen's inquiry, his eyes snapped open. He glanced over at Danny to see he was doing much the same. Daresay, he appeared a tad irritated.

He took notice the hand still rested on his arm only when it withdrew into an unfurling lap. Stretching his legs, Danny lounged across the floor and discerned the new arrivals included Matthew Murdock. The lawyer stood just behind the woman but moved past her to enter the apartment.

Colleen shut the door and walked to the music player, switching it off. She turned around and reported Frank's friend was all right and wanting to be discharged. Ward felt guilty yet again after she mentioned he would go home to his family.

Someone had a family and his father shot him. If the bullet hit closer to the heart... And he had a family. He didn't need more dead people on his conscience.

She examined him critically before her expression softened and she asked, “How are _you_ doing?”

“I'm fine,” he answered flatly.

He wasn't hoping to go into details. Everybody had some kind of sob story. He suspected she actually wanted to ask him questions about her former master but didn't want to seem insensitive. A lot of ways people behaved didn't have a lot of sense to them.

Ward shuffled and couldn't get comfortable so he got up from the floor. Murdock was looking at him through the red shades, or well, however blind people did that. He was fine. If they could just believe it…

“Pretending to be okay; perfectly normal considering what you've been through.”

Was he also a mind reader or something?

“I'm not a mind reader or anything,” he told him.

Okay, what?

“My other senses are incredibly powerful and it makes reading a person a breeze if I focus.”

He sat down on the couch where Colleen had already found a seat on the other end. Ward was remembering talk of hearing heartbeats to determine lie from truth, the emotion being felt. An astonishing and eerie ability simultaneously.

“I'm familiar with carrying myself collected while beneath the surface there's anger, fear, doubt, and unhappiness churning. You wish it would go away. You force it to by distracting yourself in the present. But it's temporary and the feelings return. You desperately want to be free of them.”

It was exactly how he was feeling. Did Matt really feel that way too? _The_ Daredevil was confessing to being afraid and doubtful at times?

“There's a rage in me at the world's injustices.”

Ward could understand. He could see where he was coming from and where it fell to turmoil. His own belief system tended to rely on bad things just happening. Harold tried to instill in him the bad things were earned, deserved, but he didn't believe it.

Nevertheless, attempting to ingratiate himself to his father did leave him with some crappy beliefs for most of his life. Like the belief he held for his self-worth. An obnoxious inferiority complex that wouldn't shake off until he thought Harold was gone permanently.

He considered his phrasing and claimed, “Our beliefs give us power but they can also destroy us.”

Matt seemed agreeable. The man took a seat in one of the chairs and continued to peer his way. He sought out Danny's demeanor on the floor so he wouldn't have to look back. Intrigued and actively listening to the conversation that suited his attention per usual.

“The manner in which we believe is infinitely important,” he said, “There's a passage from James in the Bible, 'Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead'.”

Ward wasn't very knowledgeable with the Bible. Basic information mostly. He attempted to wrap meaning around the quote. Believe all day long in something and it still wouldn't mean anything unless there was some kind of action to prove it real. Maybe.

“To me, you have to have faith or you have nothing.” Matt described. “It doesn't matter if it's to a higher power or a cause or a way of life. What we have faith in defines us as a person. Faith gives us the reason to be.”

“Faith's great.” Colleen voiced. “But what happens when the person who taught you your beliefs turns out to be full of shit?”

He was right about what she was thinking on.

“Been there,” he uttered with a forced laugh. “Stupid thing was I knew the things I did and said were all toward something I was supposed to believe in and want. Never did though. Believe I mean, not really.”

Everyone in that room was aware he meant his father. Unsurprisingly, nobody desired to broach the topic. Until Danny did. And he didn't only raise the subject, he hammered home everything he personally believed concerning Harold's relationship with his son.

“Your father found you a disappointment because you refused to harden your heart. That is only failure in _his_ eyes. To keep your humanity as you did, that's victory, that's a tremendous success.”

Sheesh. His face had to be reddening. He was conscious of how hot it felt and the stunned look being sported. Now if he could wipe it off and think of something smart to say.

Perhaps noticing his discomfort, Danny went on, “I want to represent eternal kindness, the light. But sometimes I just want to use my power to smash someone's face in.”

A smile leaked and he put a hand partially to cover his mouth.

He was envious of the compassion on display. His words discussing himself were to remove Ward from the spotlight he didn't want. And they were _still_ relevant and wise. Why didn't he see before, how the devotion the man put behind his words and actions allowed him dominion over who he was?

His thoughts turned to someone he felt unconditional devotion to in his life. Joy should be willing to listen to him if he made clear revenge was not who she was as a person, and reminded of the woman she was in his eyes. He decided he had to help her.


	20. Chapter 19: Liability

_**“This is not their fight, it's ours, and keeping them around is a liability.”** _   
_**-Colleen Wing** _

_SUNDAY, AFTERNOON_

“What are you all doing here?”

“You're gonna bring a liability here, then we're here too.” Colleen stated emphatically, making clear it was to end further inquiry on his part.

She left the room for no discernible reason besides to not be there. Danny glanced at Ward to gauge his reaction to Frank and Matt hanging out in his apartment, awaiting Joy's arrival. Initially, he appeared surprised and displeased, but his face cleared to acceptance.

It did seem his attempts to give the man some peace of mind during lunch in a restaurant were unraveling. That might have happened either way, since Misty letting Joy out of protective custody to pay them a visit was finally cleared and taking place. At this very moment, Luke and Jessica were retrieving her from a safe house to bring her to his apartment. Any minute now.

The weight of Ward's confession as to his sister's intentions in New York hung above their heads. She wasn't entirely set on the course of action, he thought, for her to agree to visit her brother at Danny's apartment where she surely knew he would also be. It wasn't like she would try and kill him among a group of famed violent types. The term was distasteful to him, but apt amid his perplexity to explain why she would want him dead.

“How are the others? You have people you care about being protected by Ms. Knight and the police, yeah?”

He was surprised to hear him caring and felt ashamed to be. If he claimed to have faith in Ward, then he should have faith in him. Life made it difficult to trust other people, and the older man standing next to him inside his doorway held a..less than stellar track record with the truth. However, at the start, he never got a fair opportunity to be a good person under such difficult circumstances. Someone who was meant to unconditionally love and care for him abused that responsibility.

His own life was somewhat comparable so he would work to be more understanding. Danny would have to follow his own advice and try to do better. Nobody flipped a switch and undid years of psychological damage. That being said, Ward was a hell of a guy despite everything. He was already strong. He'd see it himself one day.

“They're frustrated,” answered Matt. “Worried. The last time my friends accepted protective custody while I went off to fight the Hand, they thought they'd lost me for good. It would be nice if we could finish this.”

Frank scoffed, reclining into the couch cushion. “Nice, yeah. Too bad reality ain't nice.”

Danny shut the door and the both of them ventured farther into the place. He grabbed a seat on a high chair at the kitchen counter while Ward wandered toward the window. The weather was gloomy, heavy and dark clouds promising impending rainfall.

Watching him peering out to a view of the city in afternoon traffic, he found himself reminiscing on the first day he spent in New York. Back when he was fresh from a decade and a half living inside K'un-Lun. Ward was the Meachum he discovered in Harold's old office that day.

Ward was upset he claimed to be the Danny Rand of their childhood. On the other hand, the reaction from Joy avoided much emotion or belief in his claim. She seemed nice and caring while in the process of drugging him so he would be shipped off to a psychiatric hospital. He tried to be her friend again, regardless, and it was okay. Except it wasn't. She wished he was dead.

“You were up front about how I was making you feel,” he said aloud, before realizing there was no way for him to know what he was talking about.

The vacant expression he was given echoed that.

“When I returned to New York, to Rand Enterprises after fifteen years of being dead and buried. You never once colored your sentiments. You didn't believe I could be a dead guy. Then, you doubted I could be a businessman or anyone who wouldn't do anything but make your life harder.”

A little taken aback, he looked at him warily. “I guess...”

Danny added on, “Joy wasn't up front a lot of the time. She proved herself deceitful.”

Quick to defend, Ward clarified, “So could I.”

He was just as quick to point out, “But not inside. Your emotions were true. Always.”

The other man's face crinkled up in puzzlement. “Is this a chi thing?”

“It's a heart thing.” Matt said, smiling.

He looked away from him to Ward, who was definitely thinking too hard. The troubled man's gaze tracked to Frank and then away again. Twice, before he managed to lock his gaze to the outside where it was beginning to rain. Guilt for Frank's friend getting hurt, Danny suspected.

Guy got tortured for days and did nothing wrong, yet he was feeling guilty? Human and caring. Very sweet. He'd kill him to hear Danny tell that out loud. He considered doing it to annoy.

The door opened and Jessica breezed in. She didn't say a word as she took a seat next to him by the counter. A moment passed with everyone quizzically staring, and her eyes rolled.

“Hey,” she said to Danny and the rest in reluctant cordial greeting, peeking past him to the ajar door.

Luke came inside and following after him was Joy. She looked nice as usual. A pretty outfit and long hair falling over her shoulders. Her purse was kept clutched to her side and she searchingly examined the occupants uncomfortably.

She stood tall and strolled across the room to her brother. “Ward, hi.”

A warm smile overtook any other possible response, purely happy to see her. “Hello Joy. Sorry to have you in hiding but it isn't safe.”

Her arms crossed. “Sure it wasn't to get me away from Dad?”

Guess they were finished with pleasantries.

“And since when did you have friends?”

His face flushed, embarrassment spreading outwardly with a room full of people hearing the ridicule. It made him angry Ward didn't snap back or just plain tell her she was wrong. He couldn't hide her from the real world forever, especially when it was repeatedly at his expense.

Danny noticed Colleen as she reentered the living room, standing quietly near the far wall.

“Seeing as how I'm meeting with my brother and an extensive group of people I don't know, you haven't changed your mind.” Joy inferred, irritation openly displayed. “You should be a little more like Dad and grow some balls.”

Ward got mad. “Seriously? How can you defend him? He made my life hell, lied to you for more than a decade, spying on our lives. He convinced you to help him against the Hand and it got you shot. He framed Danny for his crimes to be rid of him too. He uses people, even you, Joy. He doesn't care!”

She put her back to the rest of the room to address her sibling eye to eye.

“You once said to me that to be in business, you had to find a balance, make hard decisions. Where's _your_ balance, Ward?”

An immediate retort seemed to come to him but he ended up sputtering syllables into nothing, fuming in his breathing. It was like this version of his sister was beyond his understanding and he didn't know how to approach her. Ward rarely was uncertain, typically having at least somewhat of a grasp on what he wanted or believed. Presently, he was floundering.

It didn't go unobserved by his sister.

“It seems to me you are falling apart all over again. And I won't watch it happen. Not this time.”

“I'm trying to be honest with you this time, Joy. Give me some credit. I believe you're hurting and confused, and it's causing you to believe a man whose probably lying to you.”

“I have to believe...” she uttered, hands transferring to hips. “That's the kind of thing I told myself repeatedly and it was naive, foolish. And he hasn't proven to be a liar yet. You have. He's told me about K'un-Lun and the Hand. I trust him.”

Danny perked up. “Who told you? You're not talking about Harold now, are you?” His questioning look switched to Ward, knowing his father wouldn't know information on K'un-Lun. “There's a man who came to the city with your sister?”

“Yeah, he's foreign. I don't know him.”

Joy snapped her fingers. “Hey, I'm talking to my brother. Shut it, Danny. You lied to me about my father too. You're not nearly as noble as you pretend to be.”

He narrowed his eyes. He knew that. Worked to be a worthy Iron Fist and protector of New York City every single day. It was a process.

Her expression and tone softened toward the only person in that room she cared anything for.

“It's easier not to say something, pretend it's okay. I did that with you for years. I can admit that. I do share partial blame.” She took his hand in her own. “But don't you think, you have to admit you could be making the wrong choice by not putting family first?”

Oh. He was hurting now. The raw emotional pain coming off him was painful to see. It made his stomach clench and he focused on his breathing to resume serenity.

He was surprised when Ward chuckled briefly, a small smile appearing.

“Do you know what I used to do? If I was having an especially bad day, stressed because of him, I would check myself in the mirror and make certain I looked presentable. I didn't want him to see anything wrong in my appearance he could use as grounds to punish me.”

“Punish...?” Joy smirked. “What, like the silent treatment? Dad didn't love you enough? Join the club. God, Ward. Grow up and get over it.”

Frank shifted on the couch and Matt shifted with him. He looked over and it appeared the latter was prepared to ensure the former wouldn't get up or speak a word. Earlier, they'd decided Ward should try to handle his sister before any of them so much as thought about doing a thing. Luke met his eyes and shrugged, passing it off as a reassuring motion that it was all good on their side of the room.

His sister was staring at him like she didn't comprehend the attitude. He'd pulled his arm from her touch and turned partially away with his body, watching the rain now. Jessica leaned from her stool to mutter in his ear.

“Who wants to break the China doll so he doesn't have to?”

He shushed her.

“You think you had it bad?” Joy pressed. “At least you got a relationship with Dad. He devoted all of his time to you. I barely had any of it, even more so when he was sick. Then you kept him hidden from me for thirteen years.”

“Because I had to,” he said. “Who's feeling sorry for their self now?”

“Dad tried to defend you on that too,” she told him, sounding delighted to have thought of it. “Said it wasn't your fault and the both of you were just protecting me. Well I don't need anybody to protect me. I need honesty. And the truth is, you and Danny are liars. Danny hurts people. Danny has to go.”

It was weird she was discussing him like he wasn't seated at a distance of a couple yards.

“You wanna talk about the things Dad said. Fine.” Ward relented, facing her fully once more. “He was never proud of me, Joy. I was his creation, belonged to him. His own words. If I succeeded at anything, it was because he made it so. I was a child, ungrateful, uncooperative, a failure any other time.”

“The closest thing I ever came to catharsis for the years of ra-” he froze, eyes expanding as he realized his near folly, and corrected after a beat and notable swallow. “Of abuse, was when I stabbed him over and over.”

Stunned horror filled her face and she took a step back. “Wha..? What do you mean you stabbed Dad?”

“Yeah, repeatedly,” he informed her, dark, humorless, and cruel. “If I got off on causing pain like he does, I probably would have had a hell of a night and slept like a baby afterward.”

“What are you saying...?” she asked, pure confusion and uncertainty directed to his altered demeanor.

Scoffing, he explained coldly, “Oh don't worry. He was fine. Little did I know his deal with the Hand resurrected him more than once, so long as he kept his head. Son of a bitch didn't even care what I did. He hugged me for it! I couldn't get a hint of genuine pride and love out of the man until I murdered him in uncontrollable rage.”

Joy was struggling to cling to her purpose. He wasn't being clear enough for her to comprehend the kind of life he endured to keep her safe and protected from pain. The world was full of pain though, and she never really had to confront any of it until learning her father was alive and her brother knew. Danny didn't envy the dysfunction.

She relaxed somewhat, acknowledging this was a thing that happened two years ago. Her mind had to be racing though, the way her eyes flitted around. Arms crossing on her chest again, she straightened her posture to square off with someone else to blame.

“You don't deserve your power,” she declared. “You make everyone miserable.”

Danny glanced at the others briefly, baffled. Was she blaming him for Ward's hatred of their father? It was troubling how it sounded like she echoed Harold's speech sometimes. That man also accused him of turning his family against him when he lost them both.

“Just..help me out, Joy.”

The request from Ward successfully diverted her attention. “That won't work on me anymore, Ward. I can't forgive you for killing Dad, no matter what he might have done. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“I swear if you say he deserves another chance again-”

She cut him off. “You of all people helping Danny. I don't get it.”

Joy was blatantly returning the subject to him instead of their father but it wasn't working.

“You remember a dream, Joy. That dream Harold, it's not him. He's not like that and he never was. He just pretended to be.”

The woman continued regardless. “I want to live in the real world and Danny threatens that. I want to stay in that world, not have to worry about what might happen because Danny's running around being reckless.”

Ward didn't have a response and she used the silence to make her plea.

“Come with me. We spent our entire lives looking out for each other, especially when we lost Dad.” Unafraid to share her opinion, she positioned herself to announce to everyone. “It's my fault not to see what you saw in Danny. How dangerous he was to our family. I could see how unhappy you were and how it got worse when Danny showed up. I blame myself for not trusting you were protecting me.”

He was ready with an immediate response this time.

“Dad was the cause of that. I tried to blame Danny too, so I wouldn't have to see my own father was a cancer, draining the life from everybody around him. That he was getting worse as he became determined to show himself to the public and reclaim his precious company.”

Danny was surprised, thinking back to a time in Harold's penthouse when he'd spotted blood on the carpet and known something bad happened to him. When Ward showed up, he vented anger at him, calling him a cancer to everyone. He wondered since he now knew the man caused the pool of blood left behind by Harold, if he'd even meant what he said about him that night at all. Who was the anger really for?

“It was his company. Give him a break. It couldn't have been easy losing it like he did.”

Incredulous, Ward stated, “He died, Joy. Natural causes unlike what he did to make Danny's parents die.”

Astonishingly, she breezed right through what he said concerning dead parents in order to divulge, “Wendell Rand is not innocent in all of this.”

Left with a mind reeling, he appraised if she knew what Harold did to the plane or passed the revelation off as a lie. He was stunned to hear her make such a mention of his dad either way and had to restrain from demanding what she meant. If Joy knew information on his dad, he wanted to know about it. But Ward wasn't curious and in fact appeared to believe she was deceiving them.

“You're more like Dad than I ever gave you credit for.”

Joy gave him a fake smile before letting it slip into tension.

“Considering what you clearly think of the man, I should be insulted. But I'm not,” she revealed, collected. “Dad was strong and brave, and he might have made some poor choices, but at least he wasn't a coward. You wanted to leave the company after Danny came back, you wanted to start over with nothing. Running away instead of telling me what was going on.”

Upset, he defended, “You know why I couldn't tell you-”

“Yeah,” she broke in. “Cause the Hand would kill me, Dad didn't want you to, blah, blah. Danny showed himself to be violent. You should have told me and we could have dealt with the situation as a family.”

“Family?” he muttered in disbelief, anguish evident.

“Dad loves you. He was never stingy about telling us that. You're disappointing us.”

“Saying something over and over doesn't make it true.” Ward said, incensed. “You gotta know _that_.”

She spun on a heel and headed for the door. “I do what I want. Dad always said that and so do I.”

Colleen moved into her path before Luke had the chance to do it.

Joy glared impatiently. “Get out of my way.”

His girlfriend glanced over her shoulder to him, seeking his decision on the matter. It was, after all, his life she was apparently threatening to end. He still couldn't make heads or tails of the why.

She started to push past but halted abruptly at her brother's earnest suggestion.

“Maybe we're not good people, Joy.”

Turning to stare at him, frowning, she questioned. “Why would you say that?”

Okay. It was enough of siblings arguing and passing blame back and forth. This was serious and they needed to make progress.

Danny slid off the stool and sought her querying gaze for his answer.

“Being good is a choice. You might not always get it right. But you try. Both of you do that. You're not bad people.”

The private detective stood from her stool also, studying Joy for a moment. She reached into her coat and waved a disc wrapped in a plastic bag in front of her eyeline.

“I'm not letting little miss live wire wage some stupid crusade on us. The selfish bitch needs to know.”

Mortified, Ward rushed closer to get the item but she pulled free and took quick steps to put distance between them. Danny identified the disc had to be the DVD from Kuo. Jessica must have checked the DVD player in Matt's apartment and retrieved it for safekeeping.

“Watch it.” Colleen proposed, in agreement with the other woman. “Let's see how you feel about your beloved father then, huh?”

Of course, Ward was against the idea. “No, she doesn't need to see that.”

“What's on it?” Joy inquired.

Danny seconded Ward's claim. “You don't need to see that.”

“She won't believe unless she sees with her own eyes.” Matt suggested. “She has doubts.”

While he was reconsidering, Ward retained his adamant refusal. “That will only hurt her. I won't have it.”

“What is it? No, I want to see it,” she determined. “I don't need another thing my own brother keeps secret from me.”

“Joy, please,” he pleaded. “You don't want to watch it.”

Initially, he sided with not ever desiring anyone to see something so horrible. But this someone was his family and close to shutting him out. And it was Joy. A Joy who wanted to kill him. Maybe drastic was the move here.

“Shut up, Ward.” Joy dismissed him completely. “I'm tired of your lies and claims that you're only protecting me.”

“But I am. This is a lie of decency. You never have to know what's on that video and you'll be better for it, I promise you.”

That much was true. Special circumstances though...

“I want to know what you know,” she stubbornly admitted.

“You really, really don't.”

Her glare caused him to wilt a bit, and he reluctantly told half the truth. “Fine. Dad hit me sometimes, okay?”

“What? I don't believe that.” Joy said, not considering the possibility for a second. “He loved us. He could be tough but..”

“You think I'd lie about something like that?” he demanded, insulted and surprised.

“I don't know what you would do anymore.”

Hurt, he went quiet. Danny followed his return to the heavy downpour. He observed it like a lifeline, and it probably was a temporary one.

“I want to know. I can't believe a thing my brother says. I want proof of whatever it is you claim I need to see.”

“You should really stop talking about your brother like that.” Luke said to her, solemn and unhappy.

Jessica connected eyes with Colleen and passed some sort of message between them like girls could do.

“Alright let's go. In the other room.” Jessica ordered. “Come on.”

The two women led her to the room and Ward tried a final time to prevent it. He was looking across the room toward Matt when he did.

“Stop this. Let her keep her good memories. We don't need to take them. Please.”

“She's become a threat to others, Ward.” Danny reminded, doing his best to reassure in a terrible situation. “She needs to see for herself.”

Silence. Joy and Jessica disappeared inside the room and Colleen balked in the doorway. Her eyes shut and then opened, a deep breath, and she pushed through. Going in, she closed the door behind herself.

Minutes ticked by. Ward sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He went to join him on the floor, ignoring the stares of the other three contemplating if they'd made the right choice or simply the easier one. None of them were without flaws, but they all had a conscience. It was fucked up to show what was essentially a snuff film starring the two people Joy was closest to in her life.

Matt got up and walked over to them fast, kneeling in front of Ward. He tapped the man's knee to gain his attention and then pointed out at the heavy rain. Smiling as the hands withdrew from his face, he sat and referred to the weather.

“Do you hear how heavy it's coming down out there? The sound of it. It's loud, everywhere. I love rain. Sometimes it's like I can almost see. Up close, the rain causes everything to have more definition, detail.”

“Really?”

“My world of fire fades. I get to see a beautiful world.”

A scream of pure agony came through the wall of the room. His hands cupped over his ears, a moan escaping. Danny could tell he so badly wanted to bear it tough and unaffected. It was a losing battle.

Without a second thought, he slipped his hand into Ward's and squeezed. He bumped his shoulder against his lightly and looked out at the rain. He felt his gaze land on him briefly before shifting to watch the rain too.

He caught on he was monitoring his own breathing and fought a smile of pride. Ward did a sort of meditation whilst seeing the rain fall and was comforted. His father probably had no idea how brilliant his son was, in spite of all the things he'd done to hinder the potential outgrowing of mentor.

Time passed more quickly from then on it would seem, because the door was opening and Colleen walked out. Wiping tears, she glanced at him before huddling against the wall. The beginnings of a frown were interrupted by Joy coming back into the room, Jessica behind her.

Her face was soaked, eyes red from obvious crying. She avoided the three men, walking around them to approach Ward very slowly. Unable to meet her brother's eyes when he stood up to receive whatever he would get from her.

Impatient, he said coldly, “He does what he wants. But you already knew that.”

She burst into tears and wrapped her arms around him tight, clinging desperately, and apologizing the same “I'm sorry” with no signs of stopping. Ward stood there, lamenting her grief with his own silent version. His arms rose to embrace in return.

Danny could see he never wished for it to come to this secret being shown. Out of respect, Matt gave them some space and he did the same. Eventually, she became quiet as Ward began to return her sorrowful apology with the reassurance, “It's okay.”

When she stopped, she stopped, pulling back to walk into the kitchen area. She set her purse on the counter in front of the sink, tugging the towel free of the holder to wipe the wetness away. Joy took a moment to compose and turned back to face Danny and the rest.

She gripped the towel in both hands, taking a few steps closer to him. A quiet, reverie of a look came upon her face. Danny eyed her carefully, noting she was numbing herself to cease the emotional response.

“Channeled your inner Dad. It's what Dad would want.”

Ward stayed where he was, afraid of her. He hated being seen as weak, a victim. That much Danny was certain on. Now that she knew, he was practically holding his breath to see how she would treat him. He glanced between the two of them, maintaining distance equal parts out of misplaced shame and guilt.

Speaking, she spoke with regret. “I just thought you were hiding he was alive, but..Jesus. He was telling you what to do with the company, with Danny, with everything.”

“Ever since he died of cancer,” said Ward. “Cameras everywhere, Shannon and the others... They listened to me, but only if they thought it was coming from him. I guess that's why they were always jumping to murder Danny instead of beating him up, scaring him away. It's what Harold would want...”

“You made me laugh,” she mused. “I could get you to lighten up when you walked around like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. But you never told me. When it started to get real bad, why didn't you tell me?”

What he told her sounded like something he'd thought about saying to her sooner. It was honest and significant. Nothing anybody said without rehearsing it a couple times beforehand.

“I knew it would break your heart. And you never did ask.”

“If having Dad around was so awful, why didn't you leave?” she protested, searching to apply logic to a cruel abuse of authority that didn't have any.

“He stole every dime I had so I couldn't go,” explained Ward.

“No, come on.” She took another few steps closer to her brother, nearly standing next to Danny now. “What was the real reason? Why did you keep going to see him? You could have cut him out, been mean and left him all alone so you at least wouldn't have to deal. Why didn't you? Because you love him, right? Stop pretending you don't.”

Dubious to her conclusion, Ward stared with an expression mimicking it, amending, “I love _you_. I was protecting you, Joy, because if you knew, you were in danger.”

She shook her head, seemingly disagreeing, and let the towel drop to expose the 9mm Glock. Shocked, Danny reached out to take it from her and she lifted the gun two-handed to point at him. He backed away, and caught sight of Matt tugging Ward's arm to get him to back up a few steps too.

Frank was standing up, looking pissed, and the others weren't looking pleased either. Why didn't they check the woman's belongings? Because of who she was and because no one could be so stupid as to try and kill him with all of them around. This was madness. She was out of balance, emotional. The video may have been a bad move.

“I always thought I was doing the right thing,” she stated.

Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was. She was unstable, on the verge of a screaming or weeping fit. Behind him, he could hear Ward telling her to calm down and lower the gun.

“It can't be true. Any of it. It's all a great trick. Danny's fooling us with his power.”

Oh shit. Complete denial. This situation had to be defused right away. His resolutions generally involved violence. How should he reach out to her?

“Joy, it's me. Danny Rand. We were friends once. Please, listen to your brother and lower the gun.”

She did surprisingly, lowering the handgun to gape at him. He didn't quite interpret what the look meant but Ward might have because his voice filled with panic.

“Joy,” Ward called to her urgently.

The gun came back up and she squeezed the trigger, just as her brother yanked his arm free of Matt to step between them, yelling, “Stop!”

Danny winced, shifting away automatically when he was splattered across the side of his face and chest. The substance was warm, red. Turning back, he opened his mouth in growing distress.

Clutching the side of his neck to stem the flow of blood, Ward remained upright. Instantly, Joy released the gun and ran to her brother, freaking, and his legs gave out. Arms having been put beneath him, she caught him but fell down with him by the sheer weight. Joy tugged herself to her knees and cradled him under the shoulders, supporting his head and upper body.

Her eyes were stuck on the wound, the blood gushing. Ward was not really reacting, lying there covering the flowing wound casually. It was shock, visible in his dilated eyes staring blandly into his sister's face.

“Help! Someone help!” she screamed at them. Lowering her eyes, she begged Ward to stay with her, not to die.

Ward was bleeding out. If he hadn't learned to heal using his power, if he wasn't recovered sufficiently to use the healing technique, Ward would die. Joy would have killed her brother attempting to kill him.

It took everything to breathe through the rage and come to his friend's aid. He was depending on him. Pointedly, he ignored Joy and focused solely on the dying man.

The man's eyes seeing but not seeing much, traveled from the frightened woman to his steady gaze. The quiet acceptance of what happened to him hesitated his set course, disturbing sight that it was, but he regained focus. Putting his hands on, he traced the damage to fix it. The bullet went through him, trajectory likely causing it to be embedded in the opposite wall, so he didn't need to concern himself with a removal. Instead, he imagined the artery as it should be, not as it was, torn through and irreparably damaged.

Sensing he'd accomplished the heal and visually confirming there was nothing but smooth skin beneath the coating of blood, he allowed a smile of relief to appear. Joy backed away and huddled against the side of the couch, silent tears trailing down as she stared at her brother. He was sitting up, looking at the soiled clothing.

“We've got to stop having to do this,” he remarked blithely.

Danny pulled the asshole into a hug and didn't care the other man was too out of it yet to return the act. He pulled away when the shooter spoke to him. It was Joy, but it wasn't either. He was hard-pressed to feel a hint of sympathy toward her personal plight.

“I was trying to protect him, Danny.” Joy whispered, throat rough from the screams and distress.

She needed help. Harold managed to do a number on her mental state. Everyone was hostile and furious, working it out in their own heads how best to react now.

Jessica's sardonic claim replaced the momentary silence.

“You suck at it.”


	21. Chapter 20: Things That Matter to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Netflix shows don't do mid-season finales, but they're also not this long. I like the idea of it for this story, so here it is.

**_ MID-SEASON FINALE _ **

**_“Ultimately, it taught me the value of life of hard work of never giving up on the things that matter to me.” -Danny Rand_ **

_SUNDAY, AFTERNOON_

“Joy.”

They allowed her a half hour to sit and battle with her own thoughts and emotions, but the time was here to try and get through to her themselves. She had to be assessed a non-risk factor before they could give Kuo their full attention. Last thing they would need was her causing further problems for them.

He contemplated leaving her to Ward, but was concerned after what she'd already accidentally done to him it wouldn't be all right. He worried the older Meachum looked somewhat dejected as well, and the lack of response from getting shot bothered him. It could be nothing, or it could be giving up. Earlier, Ward seemed ready to learn to be a fighter, and now...

The woman lowered her hands painted red, peering up at her brother. His expression was easily readable. He was hoping to speak to her and have her finally hear him. She wasn't quite there.

“I was protecting you. I'm so sorry.”

Danny blocked out the repeated excuse and eyed the bloody clothes Ward was still wearing. He'd cleaned the splatter off his own face and changed his shirt. The other man should probably do the same and he told him as much.

Hearing the suggestion, the traumatized woman jumped up suddenly, startling her brother who stood right in front of her. It didn't escape his notice that Frank appeared prepared to do harm if she looked at anybody the wrong way. She faced Danny, reaching out to grip Ward's forearm as though for strength or balance.

“Danny, you have to watch out. He'll steal-”

The lights went out causing her to cut off mid-sentence and the window shattered. Confusion reigned but Matt, who didn't require light to see clearly, shouted warning there was a man in the apartment with them. Danny couldn't see anything and cautiously drew near the window.

A body slammed into him and they fell to the floor. Chest to chest with his assailant, a hand covered his face and applied painful pressure. He released a growl from his throat as he struggled to find a grip to remove the weight.

“Worst-Iron Fist-ever,” his attacker muttered.

“Davos?” he uttered, and then screamed as blinding white-hot pain flooded through him.

His entire body was burning, excruciating pain paralyzing his thought-process. It stopped seconds later as a well-placed kick tossed the man away. A hand reached to help him up and he took it, finding himself side by side with Matt. Together they turned toward the assailant but he was no longer where he was.

Matt was excellent at tracking though, and shifted his head toward the door. More sounds of fighting could be heard and Danny's instinct was to go help but found he couldn't. He was feeling exhausted.

He noticed the man who helped him had disappeared, moving into the darkness.

“Get away from the door!” yelled Matt in warning.

There was movement, scraping and thuds, and then an explosion. The back-up generator kicked in, lights flickering on, revealing smoke flooding the immediate area by the front door now laying open. Matt was coughing and cursing, dragging up to stand from where he'd fallen.

Danny observed him listening for a lengthy moment. He slammed his fist into the wall to vent, and turned back to the inside of the room. His observation expanded to the rest of the room and its occupants, noting everyone seemed okay. But he wasn't.

“It's gone.”

Ward heard his utterance as Colleen was coming over to check on him, peering at him curiously.

Devastated, he fully realized. “Davos took my power.”

“You knew that guy?” asked Ward, absently scratching at the drying blood on his neck. “Wait. What do you mean he took your power?”

Colleen seemed equally confused. “That can't happen, can it? Are you sure it's gone?”

He nodded weakly. “I feel like a piece of my soul was ripped out. It's gone.”

Drained, he made his way to the couch and sank into it, forgetting the Meachum siblings who were both now standing, and right next to his chosen spot. Colleen sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression wholly concern and puzzlement. He didn't know it was possible to completely steal away the Iron Fist power either. He'd lost it.

“I didn't ask to be the heir to your daddy issues. Do you remember when you said that to me, Ward?”

Danny glanced at the disgruntled Frank when Joy spewed random nonsense. He held the least amount of patience for her antics and was trigger-happy. Seeking distraction from his terrifying predicament, he looked to the siblings.

Her brother did seem to recall the moment in discussion, saying, “Joy... I was dealing with my own shit then. That was me yelling at myself.”

“Well, whatever way you meant it, you were right. I ignored your struggles and expected you to be perfect. God, our lives are a fucking mess. Who has the kind of money we have and still manages to be incapable of real happiness? We are pathetic, aren't we?”

Joy slipped one of her blood coated hands into Ward's bloody hand. He held it and smiled tenderly at her. Sad eyes met his and then she made eye contact with Danny. Aware everybody anticipated the woman better be having answers for them, he prayed she would and he wasn't disappointed.

“He spoke so confidently about the danger you posed, not just for my family, but for the world. I believed him. The past few days… I.. I don't know anymore.”

Matt stepped up. “If you know something, anything at all that can help, share it. You have to at least suspect their intentions may be malicious, and not just for Danny.”

She frowned downward at the floor, thinking. “Davos is from the same place you came back from, Danny. He said he was like you, but called 'Steel Serpent'. Swore elders from K'un-Lun sent him to kill you.”

He glowered over what she was saying. “Steel Serpent”? It was too dark to get a look at his chest, but did Davos have a symbol there? Was it as his was, without the additional wings? The symbol from K'un-Lun used by Gao on her drugs as an insult to the place that banished her. He refused to believe the elders would send someone to kill him.

Luke shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and sauntered closer. “Why would he steal Danny's power?”

She hesitated, perhaps part of her unwilling to be convinced she was wrong about everything. But she did answer, and he preferred to accept that mattered most. It did for now anyway.

“Dad called-.. Harold called to tell me what happened to Ward. How these Heart people took my brother and he helped you guys save him. I didn't know who those masked soldiers were until it was too late to give my input, make any difference. I was in protective custody when Davos went to meet with them. He told me there was a deal between him and Heart. If he opened a portal to K'un-Lun, they'd make sure Danny died.” In full confession mode, she divulged, “I don't trust Kuo and decided to separate from Davos's mission. Figure things out myself.”

“And by figure out, you mean killing Danny?” Colleen demanded, ticked off. “He saved your brother from that warehouse, not Harold. Harold might have told us where it was, but without all of us, Ward would still be there. Did you know they were torturing him? Your father helped them capture him in the first place. Know that?”

Joy's eyes were welling with tears again. Danny didn't have time for a breakdown. He cared about her but he couldn't do this now.

“Look, if there's anything you can tell us… Start making up for what you did to your brother by telling us.”

She sought her brother's gaze and nodded once upon meeting it. “Okay. Davos seems to think your father knew about K'un-Lun. He even built his company on top of an entrance to the place.”

Ward gawked at her, releasing her hand to step back and get a good look at her face. “ _Our_ building?”

A mute nod in confirmation. His father knew..? Gao hadn't been lying? There was an entrance to K'un-Lun beneath Rand Enterprises? It couldn't be possible. This wasn't true.

“There's a door supposedly leading to a power room, but it's a staircase down, and then a ladder that descends into a deep cavern system. That's what Davos said,” she revealed to them. “I didn't go check myself.”

He eyed Joy warily. It was unlikely for her to lie now, to be cooking up some elaborate scheme to get him killed. But she was also the person who nearly killed her brother trying to murder him less than an hour ago.

Only one sure-fire way to find the truth.

“The Defenders will go see the entrance ourselves. If it's there, we should assume Kuo and Davos will also be there.”

“I'm going with you,” insisted Colleen.

He shook his head to disagree. “No. I need you to go with Claire.”

Claire looked at him quietly, mulling things over in her head no doubt. She was present enough to be looking questioningly though, so he made himself clear.

“I want the two of you to get Joy back to the safe house.”

Ward opened his mouth and Danny put up a hand to silence him before he could get any kind of protest or complaint out. His girlfriend appeared equally ready to begin an argument against his plan.

“You're staying here with Frank, if it's okay?” he tacked on the query to be certain the not entirely sane man was on board playing body guard for his friend.

He received a nod of affirmation and relieved, continued on to explain his reasoning.

“It would be safer for her to be somewhere else. We don't know if they'll try to grab you again.”

His enemies, his power stolen. Kuo remained a remnant of the Hand and therefore it was his duty to defeat him. As for his old friend, should he allow people with ill-will toward K'un-Lun inside, there was no way he'd remain in good graces with the elders. This was his life and position as Iron Fist being dismantled. It was his mission to set things right.

So heavily Ward was frowning in his direction, he couldn't resist pursuing the issue. “What, Ward?”

“What do you think he wants from that place? Kuo likes the idea of poetic justice. It's why he's using everything against itself, like the wealth and corporations running society. And now he's taken your power to enter a place he was expelled from. Is there anything he could do that..I don't know, kinda has a tragic poetry to it?”

There was no possibility he would go searching for any of the elders to take them on in combat. It was too risky and likely he would lose among the entire force of the city. He might try to take the immortality substance from bones again. That didn't seem “poetic” to him, but it seemed like a Kuo move.

Danny vowed right then and there if the portal lay open, Kuo would suffer severe and immediate retribution for his actions. The Iron Fist would see it done. He felt the urge to hurry. Every minute they wasted was a minute Davos traveled closer to the entrance of K'un-Lun.

/

_SUNDAY, LATE AFTERNOON_

“Where does he get all these karate guys?”

“Years of physical and mental training. He's very convincing as a good leader and mentor. It wouldn't be too hard to collect followers if you recruit in the right areas.”

“Thanks for the lecture, Danny,” Jessica snapped, “But I was looking to express my annoyance.”

She kicked a guy in the stomach and there were audible breaking bones. He watched her race off into a pitch black area. Crazy woman, but when she was determined, there'd be hell to pay to try and slow her roll.

“Think you're doing a fine job at that by the trail of disabled bodies you're leaving all over the place.” Luke shouted from somewhere to his left.

“Do we really have to chat now?” grunted Matt, sliding past on one knee to avoid the bullets of the few idiots down in the dark firing guns.

Danny ducked low in case he was in danger of being targeted by a firearm, tracking his ally momentarily before rushing forward to assault a pair of guys headed for him.

His fist connected solidly to the ridge of a cheek. He spun and landed fists into a stomach until it gave, then lashed out to kick upward, walloping the side of a head. A lucky strike hit his chest and he swiftly retaliated with a swinging punch. It was blocked but a flurry of consecutive blows weakened the man's stance, and he managed an uppercut to his chin, flipping him backward and unconscious.

What appeared to be a broken piece of concrete smashed into the face of a third opponent wielding a handgun. It looked like it had really hurt as the guy dropped to the dirt. He searched the spot it came from and Jessica strolled into view smirking and giving him a little wave. As if he needed the help.

“No problem.”

“Come on!” Matt called from a passageway with light leaking in somewhere ahead. “This way!”

He could just feel it. The portal was open and it was his fault. He ran forward to follow Matt farther inside the expansive foundations beneath Rand Enterprises. Fury encouraged his speed.

Another passageway, this one long, and the four of them arrived. The tall, rectangular entrance was indeed open. A man he recognized well, stood outside it, peering into the portal but refraining from entering.

He belonged to K'un-Lun. He was zealous about protecting it. Why was he doing this?

“Davos!”

Danny positioned himself for combat, not at all interested in hearing whatever explanations the man deemed fit to give him. They were past talking after this betrayal. He fought to steady and find his balance as his former friend turned around.

The first thing his eyes perceived was the serpentine tattoo emblazoned on the man's chest. What was it Joy said he called himself..? It came to mind in the next second. Steel Serpent.

“Danny!” he called back. “I'm astounded you discovered us so quickly.”

He caught the insult and glared furiously. Behind him, Jessica muttered for him to distract his friend and they would get into the portal to stop them. Right, focus and remember the mission was protecting K'un-Lun above all else.

“You stole what is rightfully mine. Give it back.”

Advancing forward a couple steps, Davos matched him step for step. A serious gaze met his glare and then Danny shifted attention to the fist he raised up, glowing. He seemed confident the power was his to use and use easily at that. He'd show him how wrong he was.

“You never should have had this power,” he claimed. “An entrance to K'un-Lun was under your nose and you didn't even know it.”

Danny attacked, concentrating his whole being into the weapon it was, power or no power. The glowing fist narrowly missed smashing into his chest and he gripped the wrist, jabbing a hand into an exposed throat. Unsatisfied merely watching Davos falter away clutching his neck, he resumed the assault, landing a few more hits.

He switched to defensive when his enemy fought through the pain and sparred on an equal skill level with him. The glowing fist occasionally cut through the air to make its mark and he had to constantly keep an eye out to avoid. Still, a leg swinging up to knock his arms to the side allowed Davos the opening he required to use the fist.

Quick enough, he was able to dodge a full hit but the brush of it against his arm sent him spinning. A leg swept under him as he scrunched his eyes shut, working to tolerate the surge of power that just glanced off him, and he fell. Rolling out of its path, a second blow from the glowing fist cracked the ground.

At the rate he was using power, Davos would be drained in no time. He was obviously not accustomed to the limits one had as the Iron Fist, especially when it was a newly acquired ability. Breathing heavily, he put some space between them and noted the other man had to catch his breath too.

He opted to spend the recovery seconds to taunt much to his dismay.

“How does it feel knowing your years of training amount to nothing? Defeating the Undying gives way to nothing!”

Danny edged closer to his opponent, sighting his friends must have gone in because they were nowhere to be seen. This encouraged him to slap down the anxiety he was feeling, sensing the hatred coming off Davos. He allowed himself to ask one question.

“Why did the elders send you? I don't believe they would want me dead.”

“They do.”

“I don't believe you. I'm the Immortal Iron Fist.”

“You're a failure who abandoned your training and the city you are meant to protect. You betrayed your destined purpose and now that duty is mine.”

“You lie!”

He reignited the fight, charging into the other man at full speed. They grappled, each struggling to gain the superior hold, and Danny angrily wrenched free when neither won. He took a step back and saw he was gathering his energies to bring out the power again. Would it even work?

Not really ready to see it happen, he ran in for another attack, screaming at him, “How can you speak of duty when you've let the wolf in through the gate?”

Conveniently, the clamoring call distracted his concentration and Davos barely prevented his fist from connecting. The fast defense was weak and he broke through it to propel his forearm against his jaw. He drove home a punch to his stomach and a spinning kick sent him rolling across the ground.

Exhaling his pain and frustration, the man rolled up onto a knee and lowered his gaze, clenching the fist. Danny hesitated where he was but there was nothing to fear. He'd drained the power.

“I'm the one who achieved victory and earned the power, Davos. Please, return it to me so I may protect the city.”

He growled and stood. “Our home? Or would you waste your talents on the likes of the unworthy inhabitants of this place of filth?”

“If the way is shut,” Danny argued. “K'un-Lun remains safe on its own. New York needs people like me to protect it.”

“You can't protect what's already defeated.”

Masked men in their gray uniforms barreled out of the entrance at a dead run. His eyes widened, frozen by uncertainty of where the priority might be. He forgot all that as he caught sight of Bakuto emerging into the wide cavern the pair of them stood within.

A memory of when Davos stabbed the wounded man lying on ground in pouring rain filled his mind. The resident of K'un-Lun was fanatical for the defeat of their enemies and protection of their home. To be allied with that same man, however temporarily it might be, was disheartening. He couldn't see right from wrong, only the mission. It made him lesser somehow.

Danny angled into a position that allowed the portal to lay in his line of sight. He could see trees of a forest, no bones in view. And Luke, fighting a couple of gray uniformed soldiers swiping at him with their curiously effective blades. His tension relaxed when he beat them both down and continued his journey to the exit.

Recalling the different name, he yelled out to the man smiling his conceit.

“Kuo! You won't get what you want this way!”

The man didn't seem concerned. The best he could garner was a little irritation. That would mean they interrupted him, yes? Maybe they got to them in time. But then he'd look less composed and more desperate.

As he was starting to suspect, the man confirmed, “I have the main prize. That will have to do for now.”

Instantly angered, he retorted, “But you're still mortal. There's no coming back again when you're dead.”

“Oh? Are you finally willing to do what you must to achieve victory? Or…” His smile turned into a sneer. “Will you have your girlfriend do it?”

He was coming closer, removing his arms from behind his back to handle his sword. His eyes wandered briefly, possibly searching for any sign of Colleen. Removing the sword out of the sheath, Danny kept his guard up but monitored the entrance too.

Luke and Jessica were outside the portal now, exchanging words with Davos. He was expecting blows so it was perplexing when that didn't occur. Where was Matt? His interest in his friends did not pass unnoticed by his enemy, who remarked upon it.

“They should have chosen an Iron Fist with less baggage.”

“That baggage stopped you getting your hands on the substance,” he pointed out.

A flicker in his eyes let him know he was correct on that, but his satisfaction wasn't to last.

“It also gained me access in the first place. Perhaps I should be pleased instead. That man would disobey his masters to see you dead.”

Danny was disappointed and saddened to know it was true. He turned his own friend against him so badly he wished for him to die. He didn't know how to fix it. Davos didn't understand him and that was why they fell apart. To leap to murdering him as solution, however, was madness. To try and convince Joy it was necessary for him to die also, was unforgivable. He was ruining people in his path to achieve vengeance.

More soldiers in gray and a few of Kuo's personal followers poured out of the high doorway. They encountered the two Defenders while Davos stood passively by, before he walked toward the entrance. Danny was relieved to catch a glimpse of deep red color amid the gray passing through the portal. He'd lost him once in a deep hole. He had no plans to do it again.

“What did you take?” shouted Davos in outrage.

Kuo paused a mere yard from Danny, in the process of bringing the weapon against him. They looked across the distance between them and witnessed the errant warrior reseal the entrance. His gaze locked with Kuo's, who put a smile on despite the harassment showing in his eyes and posture.

“They are so reliant on their coveted Iron Fists,” he said. “Take that protection away and what will they trust in its place?”

The man took off, running into at least a dozen of his loyalists standing ready by the edges of the cavern. He didn't know how long they'd been there waiting. It was clearly a strategized exit. Danny chased after them and was waylaid by the gray uniformed ones. One of them tried to shoot him at close range, angering him. He ripped the gun from his hand and bashed it against an ear.

By the time they culled the herd of enemies and cleared the chaos to take in their situation, Kuo and Davos were missing, as were plenty of the pawns used to slow them down. Did Davos pursue the Heart leader? He wasn't happy and Danny thought he knew why with what Kuo said to him.

There was an egg to birth the dragon, the Undying, and the Immortal Iron Fist was granted their powers by defeating the Undying. But if a dragon didn't hatch because the egg was stolen away… Bringing something like that onto this plane, he couldn't begin to imagine what that might mean.

He tried to find respite in the safety and well-being of his friends.

/

“Must be nice to afford a place like this.”

Danny didn't think the attempt at easing the burden of failure quite worked. Still, they weren't in as low spirits as they could be. The entrance to K'un-Lun was in a public area, just very far below. It was astonishing no one saw anything that happened today.

The elevator continued to ascend and he glanced at the other two. Luke was acting stoic per usual, and Matt was fiddling with the mask in his hands, appearing a shade nonplussed. They suspected there had to be a much larger plan unfurling and they were yet uncomfortably clueless.

It was a loss, but they returned to his apartment building thinking it was salvageable. They would need to locate Davos and get him his power back. For the time being, there was slim chance Kuo or Davos would return to the entrance, especially since the Defenders were aware of its existence.

The elevator reached his floor and the doors opened into carnage. Horrified, none of them got off at first. When Matt pushed past him to start moving to the doorway ahead, it served as a wake up for the rest of them to move.

There were bodies lining the hallway, a few limbs separated from torsos. Blood splattered floor to ceiling. It looked and smelled like a slaughterhouse. He progressed along the hallway, stepping over puddles of blood and corpses. Assault rifles lay here and there and he recognized one of the dead just short of the door that lay open.

Dominic Calburn, the crime boss he met in the parking garage battle, and then later on the dock when they took Ward. His head was twisted at an odd angle, a probable broken neck. Frank's doing most likely. Oh, shit. Ward!

Shoving the door open, smacking it into a body as he did, he glanced down. He breathed a little easier when he saw it wasn't Ward, but then he looked again. There was a fair bit of damage to his face, but he would bet the dead man was the company driver, a member of Heart.

Danny walked inside, searching for where Matt had gotten to. Jessica and Luke pushed in right at his heels. Everyone alert, monitoring for signs of life. He did find Matt and they hurried to the spot near the bathroom where he was checking on a badly beaten Frank Castle.

“Is he alive? Is he okay?”

“Yes and no,” answered Matt simply.

Outwardly he was calm, but Danny could see the rage boiling beneath. He rolled Frank onto his backside and felt around, visibly utilizing his powerful senses to identify injuries. Looking down at him in shock, he listened to some of the condition rattled off in an almost detached manner.

“Gunshot through and through to his right thigh, second gunshot has the bullet lodged in the upper left shoulder, and a third grazed his side pretty good. Some broken ribs, fractured forearm-”

“We got it. He's fucked up.” Luke said, dismally. “He gonna live?”

They would call his hospital. They'd have to give him a fake name of course, keep it under the radar. With his money, it was an easy task. He resumed his scan of the room, seeking Ward. Why couldn't he find him?

A cough drew his attention back on Frank. He was opening his eyes, or at least attempting to do so. There was a lot of swelling going on that looked awfully painful.

“They took him,” he uttered in the vague direction of Matt's concerned face. “The lawyer bitch and business suit asshole. Motherfuckers took the kid.”

Frank's eyes shut as he passed out. Panic threatened to overwhelm him and then rage and then..nothing.

He searched his friends and allies for hope. There was only desolation. Danny stared into emptiness, echoing the exact words his former friend spoke in demand of Kuo's crime. His voice had been full of rage, but his own was despairing and aimless since Kuo wasn't present to hear him ask.

“What did you take?”


	22. Chapter 21: Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-Season Premiere

_**“Defeat has no place in my mind.”** _   
_**-Danny Rand** _

_SOMEWHERE IN AUSTRALIA_

The morphine wasn't enough. It was never enough. He murmured that it was, that the tearing and ripping sensation was fading. Curled into a ball on his bed, he struggled to keep the focus on breathing, but it was a losing battle.

He dug his nails into the metal rim of the bed so he'd stop digging them into his already mottled and bandaged arms from the previous times resorting to doing just that. A hope of redirecting attention which never worked. He yearned for the days of drug withdrawal symptoms. Back when he thought he knew unbearable need and pain.

This was something else. Excruciating pain, intolerable. He barely slept, barely ate. A week of their injections did this to him. They said it would make him strong, give him power, and instead it was destroying.

Struggling to quiet the whimpering, he clenched his teeth together and prayed to God. He didn't want this. They were trying to induce an artificial power for their own ambitions. He'd been reduced to an experiment, and maybe even before, this was all he ever was to Kuo.

Desperation drove him to pretend someone out there in the big sky would relieve him of his agonizing existence. There was no answer. No miracle of an idiot bursting into the room to free him either. His thoughts drifted to wonder again if Frank was dead. Of course he was.

Overcome as a wave of the ripping, burning pain swept through him, he began writhing and screaming. He begged for someone to help him, knowing they wouldn't and couldn't help. The exhaustion stilled his thrashing but the agony remained, leaving him lie slumped on his back mumbling how it didn't hurt that much.

Ward once prayed Marcus would give him the drug relaxer he had used to put him in his own hellish world. A world of drowning endlessly in place of this one. That maybe a different pain would free him from the perpetual burning tears as his body suffered reaction to the substance they injected. He was pretty sure he'd asked him out loud a time or two to do that, but he was hushed and told to rest.

A strained laugh burst past dry lips. What he would give for a rest. The vaguely receding pain was returning already, prickling his nerves, refusing to let him deny it was real and everywhere.

He screamed the unfairness into the dark and empty, wishing the pain would just stop.

/

_ONE WEEK LATER_

In the days following the initial disappearance, there was no new information. But two things he did know. The fugitive psycho Frank Castle was laid up in a hospital bed a step away from a coma, and Matt was keeping him hidden from the police. The man made friends with an extremely rich guy and was now putting all his energies into finding the rich guy's partner.

Foggy Nelson was a nice kind of person. He was happy to help Matt out when he really needed it. Not having all the information, tended to piss him off and make him work harder. He was a lawyer after all. The win would be his damn it.

A week in and he'd caved to work with others to figure this thing out. Another week and Matt's wallowing attitude, which still managed to consist of kicking ass on the streets nightly, started him thinking they were too dumb to learn anything remotely useful. Then nearing the end of a third week, they caught a break.

And here she was now. Two women walked into Karen's office. Foggy immediately checked to see if the hotshot NSA analyst knew them already like creepy spooks do. He didn't seem to. It could be an act.

Unwarranted paranoia, check.

“Tell me you got something.”

“We got something.” Jeri replied, and he noted the box in her arms.

“What's that?” Karen asked before he could, so he added, “And who's that?”

“This box is filled with notebooks and videos belonging to Harold Meachum. Mr. Rand discovered them left in Ward Meachum's house. I suggest you incinerate them at your earliest convenience.”

“Why?” Karen stood from her desk and went over, picking up one of the notebooks to skim through.

It took her a few seconds and then her eyes froze on a passage, bugging out. She looked cute like that. Foggy shook the thought out of his head, and it was easy to forget it when she paled. Appearing a little sick, she dropped the notebook back into the box.

“Yeah. I couldn't agree more,” said Karen, retreating to sit behind her desk.

The woman next to Jeri Hogarth stared at the box curiously, but resisted, saying, “I'm better off not knowing what's in there, aren't I?”

“You are,” she replied simply, turning her attention to the other two. “Ms. Wing insisted I bring the box here in case anyone required further motivation but I don't think that was necessary. Besides, I suspect she just didn't want Danny to watch any of the videos or read the journals. He's angry and stupid enough.”

Although he didn't know Colleen Wing or Danny Rand well, David Lieberman, their resident watcher, kept an eye on them often. He hacked into street cameras like it was child's play. Matt and his like-minded hero buddies were tracking the cartel Jessica Jones first clued in on, searching for any leads on Ward Meachum's possible location. Rand was obviously struggling with the disappearance and failings to find him though.

The man was almost constantly out on the streets in his green hooded sweatsuit. Colleen trailed after him nearly as much, maybe making sure he didn't get too reckless, maybe so she could vent her own rage. Apparently her former mentor was the man responsible for the billionaire CEO's vanishing.

“Anyway, this is Nina Monroe. She works for Rand Enterprises and grew concerned by the sudden business trip Mr. Meachum and Mr. Patterson supposedly departed on.”

Karen exchanged glances with him, probably worrying what he was. This woman could be a member of Heart too, tricking them. Underground criminal organizations were a pain in his ass. He just had to go and befriend the future Devil of Hell's Kitchen in his college days to give him these headaches.

Catching on to their wariness, Jeri looked to David, tapping away on his laptop keyboard.

“I assume you're doing a background check and there are trust issues here. Well that's fine. I don't need you to trust her, I need you to hear her out. That's all.”

He stood up and moved to greet their guest properly, shaking her hand. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Monroe. Please, have a seat.”

She accepted his offer, sitting down in a chair against the window, and Jeri sat beside her. As if determining now was a good time to upset the normalcy he was setting in place, David peered across the room to where the shades were drawn.

“Do you ever worry that assassin will come and take you out still?”

Horrified, Karen shoved down the immediate reaction to appear indignant. “No. Why would they bother?”

“Solid work, Lieberman,” he remarked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Solid work.”

“They wouldn't risk shining a spotlight I don't think.” Nina Monroe commented, impressively calm.

Reaching into her bag, she removed a manila folder which she handed to him. Foggy received it and returned to his seat near Karen, thumbing it open. She explained what was there while he did.

“I expressed my concern to the board two weeks ago. While at face value they all of them claimed it was business as usual, nothing to worry about, a note was slipped to me by one of them a week later. I met this person at a restaurant under the guise of a work lunch. Donald Hooper and Maria Rodriguez were there to meet and informed me I had to tell only the right people if I had means to do anything. That they were being blackmailed along with their CEO. They admitted Patterson was blackmailing them and Ward wasn't likely to go willingly on some bogus financial business venture as is recorded on paper.”

“Can you trust them?” Karen inquired, reporter senses tingling he imagined.

Foggy read the paper in his hand and the location caught his eye. “Australia? Does Rand Enterprises have any real business ties there?”

Ms. Monroe shook her head. “No, none. But according to that document, they're at some ongoing conference to broker a potential deal. It's bullshit, frankly. Money is leaving the company to pay for something listed as allowance.”

“That's a hefty allowance,” he said skeptically.

He brightened. “There's an address on this thing. Check if it's legit.”

Passing the paper to David, the man searched and quickly found the place was real. Karen came to join them and held the sheet while he switched the laptop around to show them pictures of large buildings with large glass windows. The building could virtually be used for anything going off its outward appearance.

Karen was frowning, reading the document. “Who's Luther James?”

Surprised and a little confused, Ms. Monroe asked, “What?”

“By the label at the top here, you can see the original sender was someone named Luther James of..Interpol.” She tilted her head up to look at the women seated by the window. “This guy is the one who sent it to the board.”

David smiled, amused. “Now why would Interpol be forwarding information for a company that has nothing to do with a police matter?”

“To send up a red flag?” he guessed hopefully.

Karen tugged her phone out of the purse set on the desk. “I'm calling Matt.”

“Victory for the B-Team,” he claimed cheerfully. “Drinks are on me.”

“Pass,” replied Jeri and opened the door to the office. “Make sure Danny isn't too foolish.”

He watched her leave, arms still raised and expression holding from his joyous announcement. His eyes sought out anyone more receptive. Karen was on the phone, Ms. Monroe was giving him an apologetic look that already spelled she was declining, and David was annoyed.

“What?” he finally questioned, although he knew the reason.

“I told you to stop calling us that.”

“Well we're certainly not the A-Team.”

“I'll remind you, I was called in to assist the 'A-Team', _and_ got shot for it.”

“Right. _Assist_. Plus, you barely got shot.”

He looked bewildered. “Barely? My wife does not share in your-”

“Hey! B-Team.”

David snapped his mouth shut and they shifted partially around to see Karen. She held up the phone, smirking.

“Matt says thank you for our hard work and relentless dedication. He would also like to say it's a special kind of B-Team if that helps any, and we should go enjoy our hard-earned shots.” She paused to let the message sink in before clarifying, “The fun kind of shots, not the gun kind.”

Well, hey. There was that Murdock humor. He pictured him saying it entirely with the outfit on. Somehow the image made it all the more hilarious.

He mimed holding a fake shot of liquor to the cell phone. “Here's to your impending rescue success. Kick some ass, Matty!”

Karen smiled into the phone as she put it to her mouth. “Be careful, Matt. And give 'em hell.”

/

_SUNDAY, NIGHT-THREE WEEKS EARLIER_

When he woke from whatever sedative they gave him, he was on a plane. Blinking sleepily and adjusting to the heaviness the drug left him feeling, he sat up, staring out the window a seat away. His attempt to ignore the eyes piercing the side of his face was abandoned and he reluctantly acknowledged the presence.

“I don't believe your strength of will is an issue anymore.”

“Thanks. I'll be sure to tell my PR rep.”

Kuo offered him a soft smile. “You should be thankful your sister is yet alive. My people saw her depart on a plane out of the city an hour before ours did. I could have ordered her execution but I didn't because I know what she means to you.”

He began taking in his surroundings. A plane owned by the company, a couple loyal followers seated at the back, and another two sitting near the front. Marcus Patterson and Mikka Marks. Kidnapping bastards. His attention returned to the man opposite.

“Do you know where she went?”

“The plane was bound for L.A. Perhaps a stop on her way somewhere international. She didn't buy the ticket in advance if that is her plan, which I expect it will be.”

Ward stared out the window, trying to end the conversation there. It wouldn't work though. The man brought something up if he wished to discuss it and would be the one to decide when they were finished.

“Running away from her problems, again. Such an irresolute and weak mind. She came close to causing me to fail in my goal. I would have ordered her killed had she succeeded.”

He swallowed. His throat was dry. It was sad she felt she had to get away from them but he understood the inclination. He hoped like he sought to do in the past, Joy would be able to evaluate her life to best be granted happiness.

“No defense of your sister?”

There was no response. The fewer people who knew what his own sister did, the better. Kuo's obsession to recruit him was still puzzling. He couldn't assess how he would react to the fact the woman he already considered killing had almost killed his pet project.

Marcus started down the aisle toward them and he stiffened in his chair.

“Harold is missing. Slipped the man I had watching him earlier this week.” Kuo informed. “Your family has a habit of going off when they shouldn't be.”

A water bottle was held out to him. He glanced at the item before looking suspiciously at the person holding it. The man seemed smug to have earned his reservation.

“The sedative dries your throat.” His eyebrow raised in a suggestive gesture. “Conceivably it will stimulate your voice.”

He caught on to the dual meaning. A warning and a way out for him to excuse his resistance to answering. Always with the mind games and testing.

Since he was thirsty anyway, he didn't think much more on it and took the bottle. Two pairs of eyes surveyed his drinking and he really wanted that to be done. He drank half of the contents in a few quick gulps before resealing the cap and setting the bottle in the cup holder beside him.

“Where are we going?” he risked asking.

“Australia.” Kuo replied, studying him.

It wasn't a specific place, but it was an improved level of awareness in his plight. He pressed his luck.

“May I ask _why_ we're going to _Australia_?”

“So polite.” Marcus mentioned, leaning against his seat to stroke through his hair, fixing the stray hairs not smoothed back.

Ward hadn't been polite, using his sarcastic tone. The man across from him ceased the intensity and rested his head. His expression was now more akin to a light manner of seriousness, if there was such a thing. To business, sort of.

“You're no stranger to the concept of supernatural occurrences. For you, the concept is fairly recent, difficult to believe despite seeing with your own eyes. I can assure, the phenomenon has existed for a very long time.”

He wasn't sure if his question was being answered. Part of his focus was on what Marcus was doing also. His hand was on the top of the seat now, away from his head. Still, the close proximity wasn't great for his nerves.

“There are people out there absorbed in their own tiny worlds that don't believe in anything unless they can see for themselves,” he described. “If it doesn't affect them personally, why bother knowing or wondering? This deliberate ignorance will be the first to fall when the new world comes.”

Ah, there they were. Back to crazy end of the world stuff. Resurrection wasn't agreeing with his mental state.

“Even the established governments have accepted the existence of supernatural beings among them. Have you heard of the Sokovia Accords?”

Ward thought for a moment. He probably should be knowing this if Kuo bothered to bring it up. The Sokovia disaster he was familiar with. Nothing about a treaty.

His chair shook as Marcus pushed off to sit in a seat on the other side of the plane, at a table. He followed the movement and when the man made purposeful eye contact, he realized it was a reminder. He was supposed to open his damn mouth. Right.

He gave his attention to Kuo. “I haven't, no.”

“An agreement signed by many countries and few people with powers last year. The world is divided between calling these labeled global Avengers Initiative members heroes or vigilantes. The accords attempts to set guidelines and government oversight for people possessing abilities.”

“Sounds messy,” he mentioned. “I heard something on the news about Avengers being MIA.”

“Over disagreement on the agreement, the Avengers are but a shadow of what they were.” Kuo smiled in satisfaction. “It is so like a government to try and regulate something that should be out of its control.”

Contemplating the idea of such a deal, he said, “So what, I'm bleeding out on the ground somewhere from..oh I don't know an absurd goddamn alien attack. If someone came to help, they'd have to get consent from some bureaucrat someplace else?”

“Sharp wit, handsome.”

Ward glanced his way. For Marcus to be needling at him, it led him to surmise a bad idea was coming. These bad ideas always seemed to be involving him nowadays. He shut his eyes, remembered Danny's advice about breathing which helped him stay calm, and opened them.

“What's going to happen in Australia?”

By the look on his face, Kuo was pleased he'd reached this question.

“My short trip to K'un-Lun proved fruitful. I retrieved a thing they hold very precious. The fools leave the egg on its own.”

He bit his tongue to avoid mocking a highly extraneous seeming thing. There would be zero talk of an egg if it wasn't valuable and useful. Now he was worrying what it had to do with him.

“What kind of egg?”

“The egg of the Undying. I intend to extract fluid from the egg and test to see what happens when it's injected into a subject. I seek to learn whether it is possible to gain power undergoing this method.”

His hands gripped the armrests. Aw, come on. Give him a break… He could already feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead as the dread increased. Ward tried to speak so he wouldn't lose his cool.

“What's the Undying?”

“Danny didn't tell you?” the man queried, looking a bit confounded. “Well, I suppose we can forgive him for yet another failing.”

He placed a palm against his own chest. “The dragon. His symbol adorns Danny's chest after the power was received following the creature's death.”

A dragon egg. Wonderful. Why not? Injecting something like that would kill him, wouldn't it?

Ward gave away his understanding of who would be the lucky test subject by his hands. He didn't know what to do with them as he deliberated what would become of him. Depressingly, the thought crossed his mind that he'd be better off with his father.

“Yes, Ward. It's you. We'll spend a few days discussing the merits of Heart and then get to the trial effort. You should be proud to be chosen. I feel you need more inclusion toward the cause to discourage further resistance. What could be more ideal than placing you at the heart of our aspiration?”

Did he mean the pun? He hated it and him either way. His fear abated when memories of the apartment assault filled his mind. He assumed it was a delayed reaction from the distraction of where he woke up and the sedative.

The sudden remembrance of Frank finally falling after several bullets hit him distracted his terror. The memory of Marcus dragging him out of the corner, Mikka's self-satisfied smile for putting the man down, and his yelling like a moron for Frank to get up. The gag went into his mouth, then the restraints were applied, and he was forced along a hall of dead. His female kidnapper was pissed Trevor was killed, never mind the rest of the dead.

His father might be a monster, but these people were monsters too. And they'd beaten him.

“More ideal?” he said, fed up his control and freedom were gone. “I could think of a few things.”

There was nothing left to be afraid for.


	23. Chapter 22: Failed

**_“Simply a test. And you failed.”_ **   
**_-Bakuto_ **

He was dying. The pain became unceasingly intense and consuming for days. Ward was exhausted in his bones. This must be what it felt like to die slow.

The nurses were sympathetic, but reminded every time they came to check up on him that he was maxed out on morphine. He begged them to give him more anyway, or do something, anything to stop the pain. They apologized, cleaned him up, recorded his status, and left him alone again.

Once the injections were decidedly finished three days ago, the doctors didn't come to see him anymore. They placed him in the hospital ward of the building, a room lined with beds and machines. He was hooked up to an IV drip to keep him alive, but he'd heard the whispers among staff. His body was breaking down, burning itself up inside.

The last doctor to visit told him he would either survive the worst of the pain and his body would adjust, or it wouldn't. He didn't seem to be convinced of what he was saying though, and looked only too eager to get out of the room again. Heart was treading new ground here, using magic dragon material. How did he go from combing through daily reports to dying of a weird dragon infection?

It would appear the experiment was a failure. Two weeks injecting fluid from the special egg left him in an abysmal state. They were surprised and confused as to why it put him in excruciating pain permanently. Kuo believed it was some kind of test and he would recuperate when the power accepted him. The man also made the comment that perhaps they gave him too much, as they kept increasing doses to alleviate the negative effect, trying to force a tolerance to build.

Kuo hadn't been around for at least five days if he was tracking the time right. It was difficult in his current dismal condition, but there was a clock on the far wall opposite he would stare at in his more lucid moments. Heart had volunteers taking smaller, single doses and rooms to shove them in while they endured the agony out of anyone's earshot. They were loving people this group…

He whimpered, a quiet cry emerging. His energy levels depleted, throat raw from hours of screaming, it was all he could muster. Ward was okay dying. He was too tired to keep trying to cope with the crippling pain.

But he didn't want to do it alone.

A nurse walked into the room as though answering his silent wish. There was a doctor that had been in to see him before with her. He couldn't remember the woman's name. She probably never gave her name. Actually, none of them had. What a peculiar thing to forget.

Ward weakly turned his head to watch them approach the bed, taking notes on a clipboard of the monitor readings. The nurse spoke in a low voice so as not to disturb him. He heard what she said. His organs were beginning to fail and his body was shutting down. See, dying. He knew it.

“I've never seen cells spontaneously combust before,” the doctor murmured, equal parts fascinated and horrified. “It's like one minute they're there, and then they're just gone.”

“Poor soul,” the nurse sympathized. “He's only 31.”

Oh yeah. He had a birthday. His muscles spasmed, tears leaking down his cheeks. It was October now he thought.

“He'll be unhappy,” said the doctor. “He had high hopes for this one.”

They knew he could hear, yeah? Talking about the patient like they weren't there was such a medical employee thing to do. The doctors and nurses did it when his mother was sick, and they did it to his dad too.

The doctor actually looked at him, examining his appearance and present awareness level. She put her back to him, busying herself with some machine behind his bed and then pulled it forward. Unhooking tubing from it, she removed something from a plastic bag.

An oxygen mask was hooked around his neck and set over his mouth and nose. He stared blankly up at her. He'd never noticed his breathing was short and an effort. Or maybe he did and didn't care. Experiencing sensations like nerve-endings were on fire, being pulled apart, limited what he retained. It was a damn endeavor to think clearly for any length of time.

He managed to reach and pull the mask away from his face.

“If I'm dying, why do you keep prolonging it?” he asked, taking a bit to get the words out between labored breaths, and then suggested, “Overdose the morphine and let me die.”

She shook her head sadly. Guess it was nice some of these people could feel. Now if someone would help him…

“It won't be much longer,” she disclosed quietly, hesitating and then telling him, “Your heart can't take the strain. Honestly, I'm surprised your mind is still cognizant.”

Ward let her put the mask back on his face. He closed his eyes, exerting enormous effort to stop the whine threatening to get out. So this was how he died. It hurt… Why did he have to go in such immense torment?

“Who are you?” he heard one of the women demand.

“You can't be in here! Get out!”

What was all the fuss about? He couldn't will his eyes to open. Clenching the sheets of the bed in response to the everlasting agony, his face twisted away from the noise, seeking to block it out. Couldn't his agonizing death at least get some quiet?

/

Danny shoved past the woman and finally reached the bedside. The way his forehead was scrunched up and eyes shut tight, hands holding sheets like a lifeline, he had to be suffering. Ward was sweating and his breath hitched persistently, straining to get oxygen in regardless of the mask on him.

“Is he in pain?” he demanded sharply.

The doctor just stared at him. The nurse Jessica was keeping an eye on a couple yards away remained uselessly quiet as well. Luke glanced toward them from the doorway, keeping watch for trouble.

His eyes widened and his intensity grew as he shouted, “Is he in pain?”

Drawn to the movement as the infirmed man feebly reached up to remove his mask, he watched numbly.

“You have no idea.”

“Ward!” he exclaimed, leaning close. “What's wrong? What did they do to you?”

“Nothing fun,” the man breathed. “Your power.. Is it..?”

Danny's face fell and the excitement began to fade. “No. I didn't get it back. You'll be okay though.”

Jessica pushed the shoulder of the nurse a little, giving Matt and Colleen a nod of acknowledgment as they walked into the room. She turned to stroll up to the doctor and jerked her chin in the woman's direction before speaking.

“Hey. What's wrong with him? He's gonna be fine, right?”

The doctor glared at the intruders, not knowing who they were or what they thought they were doing there. But the nurse caved and answered. Unfortunately, it was the last thing they wanted to be told.

“No, he's going to die. He's been in intolerable pain even with the maximum dosage of morphine we can give him for days. There's nothing anyone can do.”

Colleen looked at him resolutely. “There has to be something.”

Ward groaned and clutched at his chest. The doctor eyed him a moment before risking it and brushing past to get to the hurting man. She was sitting him up and Danny moved to the other side of the bed to help.

Her expression was concerned, caring. “What is it?”

“My chest feels tight,” gasped Ward. “Augh, it's being crushed!”

“Come here!” she called to the nurse. “He's having a heart attack!”

The monitor with his heart rate started beeping a warning alarm.

Danny followed their every move as he was laid flat again, pillow removed from beneath his head by the nurse. Meanwhile, the doctor was yanking a machine to the bedside, switching it on. He saw they were those shock paddle things. Wait, his eyes weren't open.

“Ward?” the doctor tried to communicate with him, hitting his face a couple times open palmed. “Ward? Come on, open your eyes.”

She made a fist and placed her knuckles on his chest, making a rubbing motion. There was no response from the frighteningly still man. The nurse met her gaze and Danny noticed she had fingers on his wrist, which she then moved to his neck.

“I can't find a pulse.”

They did _not_ find Ward just to watch him die. No way. He glared from one to the other, waiting for them to save him. They were hesitating, despite the doctor gripping paddles in her hand as the machine charged.

“What's the problem?” Jessica uttered, coming to stand next to the machine and doctor. “Do something.”

He stared at the lines on the monitor that must have been all out of whack by the alarm sounding. He didn't know what the lines were supposed to look like, but whatever they were now was unstable and bad. Danny shook them out of their hesitation.

“Help him!”

The nurse tugged his hospital gown from over his shoulders and down to clear his chest. He looked on anxiously as the doctor stepped up and called for people to clear away before applying the paddles. Ward's body jolted in response to the electricity but nothing else.

Stepping back to the machine and turning it higher, the nurse announced she was starting CPR and began chest compressions. Matt drew closer to stand by his shoulder. What was he able to see? Did he know precisely what was happening inside Ward's failing body?

“It's cruel to keep him alive,” the doctor muttered at Jessica, sounding indignant.

How could she say that? What did she care? They'd help him. It would be fine. He could get better.

“Clear!” she announced, applying an electric charge a second time.

The lines were changing on the monitor, the alarm tapering off into calm, periodic beeping. Checking the monitor, the nurse put her fingers to his neck again and then backed away from the bed, relieved.

“He's back.”

Ward's eyes fluttered and opened slowly. He looked exhausted, confused. The doctor put the pillow beneath his head and stepped back. Danny came close and took his hand, ignoring the severe stare the doctor was laying on him. He didn't do this to Ward.

“Go,” he practically wheezed out. “You can go.”

He realized he was talking to the medical workers because they picked up on it before him and moved away. Colleen trailed behind, moving with them to the doorway where Luke stood firm. They let them leave and he swore to himself they'd be sorry if they sent anybody to attack them.

Danny squeezed the hand in his grip. “It hurts?”

“So much…” he replied, voice straining and low. “I can't do this. I can't. The pain…”

“We're going to figure something out,” he promised. “If you can just hang on until I get my power back…”

He let himself trail off, already knowing how improbable and useless the idea was. Ward had a heart attack a minute ago. He would never last long enough for him to track Davos and reclaim the healing ability.

The mask was pulled off and left to rest on his chest. “I think I'm finished with the surviving thing.”

Startled, he searchingly tried to find in his glassy eyes the lie. He couldn't. Really, it was difficult to see past the pain. It was hollowing him out, framing him emptier somehow.

“Don't be dumb.” Danny told him, stubborn as always. “I know you don't want to die.”

“The dying's inevitable,” he said, a laugh coming out as a harsh barking sound before faltering away. “All those morons who claim dying is easy are full of shit.”

For the first time, he could see the anger there. The first sign of will in a man who was giving up. He could accept that part, not the rest. He denied the death approaching. He won. He didn't lose like this. He..didn't lose somebody he cared about.

“Kuo said everybody breaks, everybody has a limit.”

Danny listened, reaching and attempting to replace the mask over his mouth and nose. His hand was batted away and he didn't have it in him to force the issue. His emotions were torn between raging against the ones responsible for this or collapsing into a ruined heap for his failure to protect.

“I've just reached mine, that's all.” Ward professed, anticipating his threshold for abuse was at an end. “It's not so bad.”

But it was. It was the worst kind of bad. The tears forming in his eyes made him mad. They were useless. And Ward didn't talk like this. He didn't.

“What are you talking about? It's awful. I can't let you die.”

A weak smile was leaking into his face as wet tears were leaking out of Danny's eyes. How did he do that? How could he feel like smiling right now?

“You will,” he said to him, calm and at ease. “Living in pain and misery is..miserable.”

Matt spoke up. “If there was something we could do?”

“I'm tired. Unbelievably tired.” A whimper and his eyes and teeth clenched shut simultaneously, biting through the waves of pain enveloping him. “Kill those bastards for me, huh?”

He wished he was able to feel the pain the other was enduring. Maybe he would understand why it was acceptable to give up. But he couldn't do either. Not now. Not this.

Danny let go of his limp hand and climbed onto the bed, placing hands on the pillow to trap his head into looking up at him. He felt the ridiculousness of straddling a very ill man lying in unknown amounts of pain and demanding to be obeyed. It was childish, pointless, and he was too mad to listen to the voice of reason.

“You have to try, remember?

“I want to write my own destiny.” Ward appealed to his anger. “At least I won't be a puppet to anyone's game any longer. It's done.”

The small smile returned as he murmured, “I'm done.”

His fury evaporated in a whoosh of air he hadn't been aware he was holding. “Oh.”

Ashamed that was the utterance he could gather together, he felt himself going weak in the arms at his juvenile refusals. He avoided falling on the suffering man and adjusted his angle so he wound up dropping to his back next to him on the bed. He folded his arms over his chest and eyed the face staring at him from a mere few inches away.

“I'm staying right here,” he declared, speaking crossly. “You're not getting rid of me.”

Like a kid denied his favorite toy. What was wrong with him?

Ward stared straight back, little smile holding on. “I didn't want to do it alone anyway.”

Matt must have gone to retrieve a chair as Danny observed him when he sat down beside the bed. He was undoubtedly sad and disappointed, face mostly unreadable but for the grief. Reaching forward, he rested his palm on Ward's leg.

“I'm sorry this happened to you.”

“Can't save everybody, isn't that how it goes?”

Jessica scoffed at the remark though her heart didn't seem in it. She kept her eyes to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed next to his. He was all about stopping death, beating up the ones who would cause it. Danny didn't know how to make it easier, if there was ever a way to do that.

He lifted Ward briefly so his head and upper body could rest comfortably on him since he'd halved the space on the bed by insisting to be in it. The anger threatened to surface the second sorrow reemerged looking at the frailty of the other man. He would do anything to keep him alive and there was not a thing he could do.

They stayed quietly that way for a while. It hurt listening to every labored breath, which was silly. He wasn't the one in agony with a body falling to pieces. He had no right to feel sorry for himself, to feel like he was the one losing something.

“I'm going to win,” he promised. The only promise he could keep to Ward now.

His head shifted a bit, forehead digging into his chest. He ignored the discomfort it caused, witnessing how the man was barely holding it together. The action was to push it down. It was excruciating for him.. The doctor was right after all. Selfishness prolonged the pain and the suffering. Why couldn't he think about other people better than he did?

He worked on his breathing, trying to relax. This wasn't supposed to be about him, right? That was the point. His job now was being a comfort as much as he could be until..the inevitable, as it was casually put.

Ward thankfully spoke, interrupting his conflicting self-deprecation and self-pity. “I believe you.”

There was a clock on the wall. He turned inward to focus on Ward when it nearly stole his numbing gaze. The time ticked by, struggling breaths and soft moans of pain the sole noises to fill it. There was an uncomfortable wrongness in waiting for someone to die.

Matt shook him. He jolted upward in the bed, reorienting himself. He flushed with shame and horror, comprehending he must have fallen asleep.

His attention went to the man in his arms in a hurry. “Is he..?”

Did he fall asleep and Ward died?

“He died,” Matt notified him and probably sensing the panic in his breathing, quickly continued to say, “But not entirely.”

Danny realized Luke, Jessica, and Colleen were gathered around the bed staring at the dead man. No, unconscious? What did Matt mean?

“His heart stopped and he was dead, technically,” the man explained, superior senses allowing him such extraordinary knowledge. “But then it started beating again and it was like everything connected and was brand new.”

“It was bizarre and inexplicable,” Colleen said. “That was how Matt put it to us.”

Jessica gestured toward the prone man. “We, uh, removed the tubes and needles and all that. Didn't seem to need them anymore.”

He glanced briefly at the nearby table holding the oxygen mask, IV line, and a few other things he didn't bother to distinguish. If he didn't need those things anymore and he was alive… Wait, so he was okay? He was going to be all right?

Lost in confusion and concerned, he twisted to get a good look at Ward's face. The man was waking, possibly prompted to by the movement and voices. Ecstatic for it, he shook the shoulders gently and reached a hand to turn his face toward him.

Bleary eyes opened and after a moment, examined his face, meeting his seeking gaze. “Danny?”

“Yes. It's me.”

The frown he got was all so familiar and welcome, as was the retort. “I know that. I called you Danny, not Grandpa, you idiot.”

He fought a smile and failed, broadly grinning down at him. “Are you in pain?”

Frowning for a different reason now, Ward pulled away to perceive what he felt. Danny thought he saw something and grabbed the dying man to put his back into full view. There wasn't a mark in sight and he shared the discovery with him.

Ward peered over his own shoulder, trying to get a look at his back. “What do you mean?”

“Your scars are completely healed. There's nothing but smooth skin!”

“Huh…” But then he grinned, matching Danny's excitement finally. “There's no pain. None…”

The older man sank against Danny's side but he was still smiling. “Oh thank God, the pain is gone.”

Now that he was studying him some more, he saw the exhaustion remained in place. Well how much sleep did he actually manage enduring so much pain? He guessed less than a lot, or even a little.

“I hate to say it but..” Colleen noted. “Whatever they did to you saved you. It almost killed you, but it saved you too.”

“Ward, what did they do?” asked Matt.

A shout came from somewhere outside the room, but not far. Luke glanced his way before looking to Jessica and the rest. Reinforcements at last.

It was someone's ass he could kick. He'd be more than happy for the company then. Danny climbed off the bed, but paused when he caught sight of Ward attempting to do the same, movement clumsy. The exhaustion was making him sluggish, slow.

Luke shook his head and came over, fixing the hospital gown back on his shoulders firstly, then swinging him into his arms. Cradled, but conscious and able-bodied enough to react, Ward glared and worked to loosen his arm so he'd fall to the ground. He was clearly not for the idea of being carried.

“We could do this fireman-style,” suggested Luke, “But then your ass is gonna be hanging out for the world to see.”

“I don't mind!” Jessica called out as she strode toward the door. “I'd be happy to guard the rear.”

His face went beet red at record speed. He was obviously just taking in the thin cloth robe covering his decency. Danny patted him on the head for support and discerned it was the unwise choice when the embarrassment instantly morphed into outrage.

“I was dying, I'm not dying, and I'm not that tired!”

“Yeah, sure you aren't.” Luke agreed and continued on carrying him. “But we're in a rush so how about you prove your manhood or whatever later.”

The blush resumed full force. Danny looked away to pay attention as a couple of guys appeared outside the room. They looked agitated and raring for a fight. Colleen nudged his side with an elbow and he confirmed his preparedness, giving a brief nod.

Matt tugged the mask on as he walked by, looking eager to join Jessica's ongoing battle. The guy still standing slugged her in the jaw, and after regaining her senses, she returned the favor with a kick. He flew through air, caving in part of the wall from the strength behind her blow.

She entered the hallway a bit more and extended an arm to them without looking, putting up four fingers.

“How thoughtful of them,” Jessica jeered loud enough for the four enemies heading their way to hear. “One for each of us to smack around.”


	24. Chapter 23: Face it Together

**_“It's not what any of us thought. But you have a duty now. And we'll face it together.”_ **   
**_-Davos_ **

The plane dipped, shifting him to the edge of the luxury seat he'd been asleep across up to that point. Disagreeing with the return to consciousness, he groaned and rolled to lie on his right side instead of his stomach. He blinked his eyes reluctantly open, registering he was completely rested and there was zero chance sleep would come again.

Ward sighed and wondered how he got here. His entire life was a soap opera of a catastrophe personally, and the past few months truly elevated it to a new type of art form. It would be odd not having the scars. Most of them were on his back where he couldn't see them except in a mirror, but presently he didn't feel a single ache or pain anywhere. A first since the day his father showed up in his bedroom to reignite a tormenting reign, a shadow he'd deemed dead and buried with finality.

His shadow continued to loom, even when he didn't have a clue where he was right now. There was no doubt in his mind that Harold would reappear to be a complication. His greed would leave room for nothing else. Why was he still dealing with this crap?

He grew bored staring at the wall and conceded to the remainder of the plane, sitting upright and shuffling to rest his back against one end of the lounging seat. Enormous relief flooded his system as he remembered the excruciating pain only too recently engulfing his whole being, and the fact it was over and gone. Relief, yes, contentment, no. His waking brain was leaking memories and discouraging lines of thought.

“Ward.”

Guess pretending everyone wasn't looking didn't make it stop. Worth a try though. Oh well. Time to face the music or whatever the fuck everyone wanted from him.

“Where are we?” he asked for something to ask.

“Nearly home.” Colleen told him. “You slept almost twenty hours. Had me worried there for a minute.”

“How'd you know that? You stayed awake?”

She shrugged and reclined in her chair. “Couldn't sleep anyway. Too much bullshit mixing around in my head.”

He regarded the woman seated by a window. She looked stressed and tired. It was unexpected she traveled all the way to Australia to help him. Ward didn't know her well, and wasn't sure how she could act selfless like that. A part of it might have been for her boyfriend, or for herself to have a chance at taking out her former master. Whatever the reason, selfless or other, it required her to place herself in danger for a nobody. She shouldn't be here. Him either.

“Are you okay?” Danny inquired.

A shoulder shrug, gaze scanning the interior at the people that mattered sitting around awaiting the plane's journey home to New York. Did Kuo return to the city? He found it likely, and he also considered he might be happily forsaken by Heart's leader. After all, he was left to die. Heart had bigger concerns if they were going to stage a revolution.

Danny's relentless stare forced him to give a proper answer. “I shouldn't be here.”

He'd briefly contemplated a lie, but what was the use? They were enclosed in a plane. Neither one of them was going anywhere and by now, he believed Danny had vastly improved on sighting his falsities.

His confession went over about as well as expected.

“Alive you mean?” Matt asked knowingly.

He'd changed out of his Daredevil outfit sometime during his lengthy period of sleep and wore a t-shirt and jeans. His selected seat was at the far end of the plane close to Luke and Jessica, the latter possibly sleeping with her head lowered to her chest, but he stood looking toward him. He made his way into a seat closer to the three of them chatting, removing his sunglasses.

“I know what it's like to accept dying, die, and then wake up and find you didn't die.”

This guy was good to get it all correct in one go and he muttered derisively, “You should be a shrink. Now go tell somebody else what's wrong with them.”

The man chuckled and broke into a smile which was damn difficult to not be infectious. He had a great smile. And that reminded him of his sister's comments and the woman from his office. What was her name? Nina.

Nina, the sole person in his entire building to care something was off about him and that with his family crisis and change in attitude, she'd wanted him to know she noticed and could be support. Yeah, that person. Said he had a nice smile and should use it more.

It felt dire to become reclusive just thinking about them. Nina was probably at home with a loving family, caring for her kids like a parent was meant to. And Joy... Well, it didn't matter because Joy was a mess like he was a mess, and goddammit he was done! He wasn't supposed to be here anymore. He was finished being the load to strong people dealing with plenty of their own shit.

“The hard part is now you have to live.”

He looked at Matt. “Maybe it'd be better if I hadn't lived. It would be easier for you guys.”

“Of course it wouldn't be!” Danny cried out, sounding furious.

“Why not? You guys are constantly running after to rescue me. I'm a burden. Maybe that's what Kuo wants too. Your attention fixated on me while he does who knows what somewhere else.”

It had to at least be a possibility and Ward was finding it increasingly difficult to see the bright side of surviving. Survive for what? The mess they were living in? He'd finally accepted death after decades of stubbornly refusing to entertain the notion out of sheer rebellion to his terrible life itself, then to refuse his father the satisfaction of using his precious daughter as a replacement. Complete acceptance left him spent, not knowing what to do or how to feel in a manner that wasn't negative.

“Saving you is never going to be a mistake, Ward,” said Danny with such confidence, he thought the burning stare would put holes in him.

Making him uncomfortable in its intensity, he tugged the blanket up from where it pooled across his legs to his lap. His fingers twisted in the soft fabric, wondering how he was supposed to describe his stupid issue. People were supposed to be happy they were alive. He wasn't. Matt seemed to understand, but transcribing that understanding into Danny's mind would be a significant undertaking.

“As Iron Fist, I've determined to be a light for those trapped in the darkness,” the man declared, oh so visionary-esque, but shut down his rising scorn when he added, “Your sister declined protective custody shortly before you were kidnapped. She left a letter behind.”

Ward saw him dig a crumpled envelope out of his pant's pocket. He unfolded it and stood to pass the paper over to him. Taking it hesitantly, he observed the paper was still sealed. He tore it open, unwilling to drag out the suspense and curiosity Danny was exuding toward him.

He thought it was a fine time to let them in on his awareness as well. “Kuo had people see Joy get on a plane. He claims they didn't follow her and would leave her alone. That they didn't care for her.” He glanced up, flickering his gaze between his audience rapidly and then admitting, “I believe him.”

Unfolding the letter, he peered down to read what was written. Right away he noted it was addressed to Danny too. His instinct was to hide, read it himself and then bury the contents. But what had that behavior ever gotten him apart from alienation and self-disgust?

“It's got your name on it too,” he shared, and cleared his throat. “So I guess...”

The sheet in front of his face as a sort of cover, he began reading Joy's letter aloud.

_“Danny. Despite trying to kill you and in fact, wishing you dead for more than a year, you're still the easier one to write to. Maybe because in a way, you're kind of a big kid. You're naivety and innocence allowed you to barge into the lives of a family already struggling to make it through each day, and categorically shattered our fragile peace. You made it so we couldn't hide from our darkest secrets, our hidden shames._

_“It wasn't kind, and it wasn't fair, but I can admit we were unhappy. You broke us, but you also broke us out of our rut. There's not a thing I can say now, that would do justice for what I tried to do. I am sorry. I truly am sorry. You could turn this into the police as a confession I suppose, but he would never let you. And he is my reason I also see the compassion and strong sense of what is right and good in you, Danny._

_“I'm going to admit myself into a psychiatric hold far away to find a balance. My life is in pieces and that's half my fault so I'm going to own up to it. I'll discover who I really am inside before I ever risk my brother's safety again. You protect him, Danny Rand, or so help me I'll get it right the second time.”_

Ward shifted in his seat, various emotions coursing through him. If Danny was the easy one to write to, what did that mean for him? Skimming the next section of the page, he wasn't certain he wanted to know. He dared to look up and the rapt attention of every last person paralyzed him. This was extremely personal. Maybe reading out loud wasn't such a wise decision. It felt incomplete to stop there.

He wouldn't have this hanging over their heads, and it was owed. They'd taken care of him how many times now? A little privacy kind of meant next to nothing with the dangers they regularly faced because of Heart, and similar threats sometimes caused by his own family.

Allowing himself a moment longer to breathe in and then out, he lowered his eyes back down to the page.

_“Ward. When I make bad decisions, I'm always justifying them. I convince myself I'm doing what needs to get done. You just do. You own your choices. I wanted to be like you so badly. My big brother, he is practically a genius in business and amazingly strong. I'm right about the second part. The first part, it's true now too, but two years ago, the man I was admiring and modeling myself to be like was Dad._

_“I started making those connections the second I learned he was alive, hiding away in a penthouse, remembering what he was like before the cancer got real bad. And as time passed after leaving New York, my eyes opened. You were self-destructing all those years because of Dad's hold over you. When I saw what he did to you the disgusting, cruel, evil, monstrous, damn it I'm so fucking sorry, Christ, oh God, what the hell? How did I miss-How could I not see it? How-Why-Just-I love you, Ward._

_“Words will never express the regret and horror of what that son of a bitch did to you. I know why your wall went up one day. I can't say with any certainty, except I think I can. He started hurting you and you started hiding from me to hide it. I envy you still, because you endured all that and remain the amazing brother I care about. Our whole lives, your personality never changed much. You stayed true to who you are. Me, I lived in a glass world, ignoring the bad, the warnings. That, and working to be like Dad, believing I needed to prove myself to everybody and protect the company he began, that is what ruined me. Not you and Dad lying, not Danny exposing our damage to the light._

_“Christ, I tried to kill a guy who says things like, 'Kindness is the eternal law'. What kind of person am I? You were right, Ward. I'm not a good person. But you are, and I've always hoped to be like you, so I guess I know my goal in life. Be good and figure out what exactly that means for me. It's like you say, 'Something isn't true or it is'. So I'll either succeed or I won't._

_“I want to try and write my own destiny. Remember when you said maybe it was time we got away from the company and do that for ourselves? I wish I would have listened to you. I'm listening now. Do what you have to do. Stay safe. I pray those two things don't conflict because I love you._

_“Ward, I'm sorry. The words seem so small, so inadequate. One day I hope you can forgive me for failing you as family. You're the one person in the world I keep in my heart always. It's why it hurts so much I imagine._

_“By the way, sorry for the water damage. I made sure it was at least legible before sealing the envelope. I love you. Joy.”_

He kept his face blank and let the paper drift out of his hands to the floor. Bringing his head up, he met Danny's frowning and uncertain gaze. She was gone and he was alone.

“I want to go home.”

/

Normalcy. That was the intent of coming to his house. It was somewhere he was tortured, but so was his office. He would have to go back eventually, therefore he planned to get it over with starting with the worst place. His fear wouldn't hold him back and make him hate himself. Ward had to find his belief. It was long overdue now that it seemed he was going to live.

Speaking of living, Frank was alive. In terrible condition bound up in a hospital bed, although on the mend. He wouldn't admit it, but it did put a bit of enthusiasm in his step. Someone didn't die for him.

His imagined normalcy was drying up when the six of them arrived to the house, and everyone began getting out. He couldn't fault them if they wanted to check the place, make sure it was safe. Except while the others went on ahead, as he got out of the car, Danny stayed glued to his side. Self-conscious of the blanket wrapped around him, he began wishing he could be inside faster to have real clothing.

Still... Temporary bodyguard? He scanned the night streets, searching for signs of a threat. Nothing seemed amiss but he could be missing it.

“Danny? I really don't think they'll come after me again. They abandoned me in another country. I don't think I'm the priority. Kuo has the egg. He's been using it for his experiments to probably make special soldiers. I'm okay risking it. I think I have to.”

Without looking at him or missing a step, he replied, “You want to get back to your life. I get it. But 'think' isn't going to cut it. We're staying with you. Harold's out there somewhere too. You willing to risk him finding you alone?”

He swallowed, not having thought about that possibility. “If you think it's the best move I guess...”

“I do,” he said curtly, ending the discussion as they reached his front door.

When he didn't go inside, Ward glanced at him before going on by. A hand landed on his shoulder causing him pause. He looked to Danny.

“What is it?”

“I gave Jeri Hogarth a box with discs and notebooks your father recorded. She turned them over to Karen Page, who assured me it's all been destroyed.”

He thought on the name and panicked as he pinpointed the familiarity. “A reporter? Did she watch any of them? Read anything?”

“You were asleep on the plane for so long and finding you in the condition we did... I forgot to mention, she helped us find you. So did Matt's friend, Foggy Nelson, along with David, Jeri, and Nina Monroe.”

Ward let the shock on his face do the speaking. They searched for him? He never thought anyone would look if he disappeared. To have so many work to find him and be the reason he was standing inside his house again, accompanied by people who would do serious damage to anyone who'd hurt him, was an inconceivable idea a day earlier. As fate would have it, he was lucky to know Danny.

The other man continued on into the house and he watched him go. He was reevaluating Danny Rand again. His mind was actively scrutinizing memories while he turned around to close the door. It was why the heightened alertness allowed him to notice someone outside.

He or she was moving fast. He stumbled back and pushed the door shut. Or he would have shut it if the robed someone hadn't slammed into the door feet first, somersaulting into the entryway. Ward yelled out a warning to the others. Which was just as well, since Joy's former partner spared him a momentary side-eye before proceeding deeper into the house.

It was his own home and he was getting the look of disapproval. Right. Ward knew he must be looking for one man in particular. The intruder was halfway across his living room when Danny came in from the hall, followed swiftly by the rest.

“Davos! You will face punishment for your crimes!”

Davos didn't look so good. He appeared sweaty and harried. His eyes were wide and desperate. Declaring him deranged wouldn't be off the mark.

It had him feeling uneasy. Ward backed toward the doorway. Would anyone fault him if he took a break outside while the four Defenders plus Colleen pounded the thief into the floorboards?

The unstable fellow peered over his shoulder at him. He stopped any movement. Oh no.

He couldn't do anything but grunt as the man rammed into him, elbow digging into his stomach. Gritting his teeth, he went with the blow and for once found himself of present mind to react. His inability to care was serving a purpose. Heart training attempted to instill in him the notion of counting oneself dead at the outset of any combative involvement. Since he was feeling rather detached from the world and life currently, it proved fortuitous. Bizarre how things worked out sometimes.

Ward connected his fist into the guy's throat and monopolized on the success by seeking out a heel to stamp his foot on. Briefly Davos hit the ground, and he backed away, stepping carefully to the open door. It was not doing him any favors to be wearing a hospital gown, a blanket half fallen from his shoulders, and bare feet.

Glancing up as he reached the front door, he could have done without the gawking faces of motionless heroes. Yes, so history portrayed him as a work in progress. But could they not lend him a single credit for trying his best in shitty circumstances? He could be a resourceful somebody.

Aw, crap. Davos marching in his direction, demented eyes glaring daggers into him. He froze and did the thing he could think to do from the distance, aware Danny and Colleen were moving in to back him up. The throw wasn't great, but the blanket tangled into the legs of the menacing man resulting in a second trip to the floor.

Danny closed in and swung fists on the offensive. The other didn't switch to defense. He simply parried the blows with his forearms and then landed a glowing fist into an extended arm. Outraged at the audible snap of her partner's arm as he tumbled aside, Colleen unsheathed her sword and sliced through the air.

He avoided her strikes and although she was using her skills expertly, the unstable yet determined reactions of his own let him outmaneuver repeatedly. Latching onto the wrist gripping the weapon, he shoved it, shoving her away, and the other three inched forward to join the fight. Apparently not approving of being outnumbered, Ward found himself the object of his interest.

In his present state of dress, he wasn't eager to engage another. It might not have mattered regardless, as Davos's next blow slapped painfully across his chest so sharply he was reeling to recuperate. He caught sight of Matt mere feet away and the enemy noticed too.

Ward choked as a hand took him by the throat, squeezing harshly. The other hand wrenched an arm behind his back and displaced them out of Matt's proximity. He and the others wavered in their approach, so very close to mounting an attack they no longer could. His fault again...

The arm was bent and yanked higher up his back to discourage struggling. He bumped against the asshole's unyielding form when he backed them into a wall. Davos slid the hand to grab his jaw instead, and he strained to witness the same hand beginning to glow. What was he going to do with that there?

“Stop! Davos!”

Danny motioned for the rest to back up and pushed past their reluctant obedience. He was holding his arm to his side and Ward worried how badly it was probably broken. He'd prefer skipping the lesson on what happened to things a charged Iron Fist smashed into.

“I will kill you, Danny!” the unbalanced man swore.

“Just let him go,” he requested, gaze switching from him to Davos a few times. “This is between us. It's me you want to fight, isn't it?”

He could feel the man's head nod beside his own. “No interference. You and me settle this.”

Taking in his allies standing back, he agreed. “Only you and me.”

Davos released him quick and was rushing to erase the distance between his designated opponent. Hoping speed would win out immediately in all likelihood. He looked on as Danny sparred with him, successfully holding his own despite being disadvantaged by a useless limb.

Although they were on an identical skill level from what he was seeing, his injury was reducing the power Danny could put into his attacks. He didn't seem to have his head entirely focused on his opponent either, which Ward didn't get. Davos came up to him, fist glowing and sweeping toward his already weakened and vulnerable side, and there was no apparent defense rising up to meet him.

He was surprised when the assailant stuttered to a halt, arm slowing to a stop mid-swing. Eyes bulging, his body twitched and jerked like he'd been hit by lightning. All the while, Danny stood ramrod still, eyes closed and the hand on his good arm palm outward near his own chest. It dawned on him he was gathering his energies and concentration inward to cause this reaction outwardly.

The glowing fist dimmed and returned to a normal hand. Immobile, the man screamed out in physical agony. Visible energy burst out of the black serpent symbol on Davos's chest, extending tendrils of pure light. Astonished, he watched Danny absorb the energy into his own dragon symbol, reclaiming his power. That was a hell of a training program in K'un-Lun.

Danny lowered his hand and opened his eyes, examining the exposed part of his chest tattoo for a moment. He zipped the sweatshirt and smiled happily for a moment. Recalling the danger in the room, he adopted a more appropriate expression.

They saw Davos drop to his knees, clutching his chest. He was in obvious pain and looked close to fainting. His breathing was heavy, shoulders drooping tiredly, and he seemed beat. Ward wasn't taking any chances.

He walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. The other hand pulled back, folding into a fist. Ward delivered a hard, quick punch to his temple, knocking him out. If he had to give props to Owen Alvaro, it was that he was a fantastic teacher. Now if only he'd done better at choosing his friends and employment.

The varying degrees of questioning looks he was receiving wasn't wholly out of line. There would no doubt be a conversation very soon about where he'd learned to give a few good hits like he had. Danny kind of knew, but the others were a little more in the dark on the time when his life was held hostage by Heart. A time when he hadn't been introduced to any of these formidable individuals.

He met their gazes, ending on Danny's, and said what was on his mind.

“I've had enough of people trying to hurt us.”


	25. Chapter 24: Trusting Other People

_**“You and I, we... We haven't had the greatest luck trusting other people.”** _   
_**-Danny Rand** _

Davos sat sullenly in the chair he was tied to, staring, and he refused to break the eye contact. His former friend had some serious explaining to do and he wasn't going anywhere until he got answers. One major problem haunted his waking moments.

“Where's the Egg of the Undying?”

The man broke the eye contact, peering toward the strengthening beams of light leaking in from the window. The coming dawn making its presence known. He continued to stare, despite being ignored.

Jessica walked into the living room, a drink in hand. Some of Ward's liquor stash. Breakfast of champions, or the traumatized more likely. He felt sympathy for her troubles, but his empathy linked to the man he knew was awake in his bed.

He couldn't risk leaving Davos unattended and didn't want anyone else to take on his business. Even so, the awareness of tossing and turning and conscious breathing filtered into his ear each time he pressed it to the bedroom door during the night. How he would be willing to try sleeping in a bed where he was attacked by his own father was beyond his understanding. Ward was valiant and courageous, if only he would believe it himself.

“The rest are stirring,” Jessica announced, taking a sip. “We want an early start on doing some damage back to them, so torture this fool if you got to and let's get started.”

Matt and Luke were sleeping in one of two guest bedrooms the house held, while Colleen and Jessica had taken up residence in the other. He'd opted to remain awake on guard to wait for Davos to come to. He had nearly an hour ago, giving him nothing but silence. Torture probably wouldn't be effective. Stubborn and willful, trained to endure pain, it wouldn't be easy to force answers.

It was fortunate then, that he decided to give them without resistance. “K'un-Lun.”

Wait, what? The Egg was not where it was supposed to be.

“Speak the truth!” he demanded.

“I am.”

“What day is it?” Luke questioned as he came into the room. “Sunday? I think I forgot to pay one of my bills. Damn.”

He glanced at the guy. “A little busy here. Something more important in case you forgot.”

“Don't give me attitude. I ain't forgetting your weird dragon shit anytime soon.” His attention roved a bit until it landed on the kitchen entryway. “I'm hungry. Think there's anything still good in there? I mean, he was gone for weeks but still. Something…”

Incredulous, he uttered, “Luke! Go away if you're not helping.”

Forlornly eying the empty pizza boxes discarded in a pile on the floor-They really had to stop ordering pizza-Luke disappeared into the kitchen muttering under his breath. He passed Colleen on the way out.

She walked over to Danny and put an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him on the lips quick. The frown firmly planted on his face from his interaction with the man worried about personal and non-urgent issues remained. The sleepy woman pulled away to take him in, visibly clearing her foggy mind.

Smiling, unamused, she took a step back and contemplated Davos. “He say anything?”

“Lies.”

The accused met his eyes. He kept mostly expressionless, seeming weary and solemn. But there was a spark of provocation entering the steady gaze.

“There is a compound in Australia. I went there and I took it back.”

Shocked and disbelieving, Colleen gaped at him. “When?”

He thought for a moment. “A week past. There was a storage room with shelves of the liquid, but I couldn't do anything for it. I barely slipped away with the Egg of Shou-Lao the Undying as it was. But I did. And I returned it safely to the place where it belongs.”

“You were in that place where they had Ward?” asked Colleen. “You could have helped him.”

His head shook once. “I didn't know he was there and if I did, he is not my concern.” He looked at Danny. “He's a distraction from your destined purpose. Maybe I should have killed him last night.”

He punched him across the jaw before he knew it was what he wanted to do. Sitting back down, he didn't hear any protests from the women in the room. Davos's lips curved upward slightly, disdain for him appearing. Leaning forward, using his restrained arms against the backing of the chair for balance, he peered into his eyes.

“What have you accomplished for the city you are sworn to protect?”

It was surly and beside the point. Kuo gained entry to K'un-Lun because of Davos, and he was acting self-righteous and blameless. Danny's initial response was to be angry, however, he was thinking over the Egg itself, distracting the negative emotion.

“The liquid of the Egg must possess some kind of power of the Undying. But it would have to be underdeveloped, maturing, wouldn't it? What could he do with it? Wouldn't it be worthless?”

“Ward survived something inexplicable,” Jessica mentioned, plopping onto the couch nearby, glass empty. “Could be the liquid they were injecting into him had a thing or two to do with it.”

Alarmed, Davos twisted to try and see her from her spot behind him. “They were injecting fluid of the Egg into that man?”

“Yeah,” Colleen responded. “They kept giving it to him thinking his body would adapt and it nearly killed him.”

Davos stared at her, alert and distraught. “But it didn't. They have no right to debase the sanctity of the Undying-”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “Are you saying you think it could have an effect on Ward?”

He was getting the look like he might be an idiot. He wasn't an idiot. People just refused to grant him answers and clarification when he preferred it.

“I don't understand any of this if it helps,” Jessica volunteered, coming around to stand nearer.

Resentful, Davos laid the matter out for them.

“There are many texts in K'un-Lun. That the Egg of the Undying is capable of regeneration is not inconceivable when one accounts for how the cycle of the Iron Fist operates.”

“Which is..? Jessica began, trailing off to await an answer.

Danny glanced at her. “Egg to dragon to protector, the Iron Fist.”

“Right.” She appraised him with raised eyebrows. “I thought my life was a helluva bizarro universe, but I think you got me beat.”

He huffed and returned his attention to Davos, who accepted it as a cue to go on.

“Some of the older texts are full of stories, legends. One such story tells of men and women who were unsatisfied living in the city the way things were, existence revolving around the Undying. These people began to dream of a different future and hoped to control their own destinies. If the Undying was so worthy of reverence, maybe it could allow them to be like it and lead better lives. They stole the sacred Egg away from the cave, cracked it open a fracture, and ingested a small amount of the fluid inside.

“It caused unbearable agony for days. Some of them died. The ones left alive discovered they had become empowered by the Undying. One could heal others, another could fly, and so forth. But then it went away after four days never to return, and the defilers were banished from their homeland. The lesson being that one cannot steal power, it must be earned or willingly granted in order to take hold and be retained.”

“I don't think that was the lesson Kuo learned.”

The three of them looked up to see Ward standing in the hallway. It wasn't enough to waylay his growing suspicion. Davos was speaking the truth in order to stall for time.

“Why are you even telling me all of this? You hate me.”

“The elders sent me to retrieve you, not kill you,” he admitted. “I let personal feelings cloud my judgement.”

“You don't seem very sorry.”

“There's something else.”

He sighed. “What else?”

“I have some of the power in me. I can feel it.”

The binding fell away and for a split second he had opportunity to berate himself for failing to monitor the ties. He lunged in the next to prevent his escape. Davos rolled off the chair and twisted his lower half, tossing the object into him at enough speed to fumble him up. Furious at his blunder, he tore after the man racing for the front door.

It was stupid to leave him so close to an exit but with all four Defenders in the place, they didn't think it would pose a complication. The door slammed into his forehead when Davos pulled it open, slowing him down. He continued out onto the sidewalk and saw a whole lot of nothing.

Colleen jostled his shoulder as she pulled herself to a quick stop beside him, looking into the street along with him. Her breathing heavy, she looked out in disbelief.

“How did he vanish so fast?”

They retreated back inside and Colleen's phone started ringing. She reached into her zip-up pocket and pulled it out to read Claire Temple's name on the screen. The sun was barely up. Their eyes met. They knew this was going to be bad news.

/

Leaving Ward with Luke, Danny and the others went to meet Claire outside Metro-General Hospital. He didn't get an argument about it from Ward and he knew the man was lapsing into indifference. It was worrying to see him wrestle with something as good as life. The detachment would eventually self-destruct if allowed to continue unchecked, wouldn't it?

When they arrived, Claire was talking to a few nurses. Misty Knight stood off to the side, waiting for her to finish. She cut it short at the sight of them and the hospital employees filed into the building.

“Claire, what's up?”

She glanced their way, exhaustion evident. “Good. You're here. Come on. There's a patient down in X-ray we can visit unseen.”

Matt edged into view, now assured there was no one to really notice him. He could always put Jessica's scarf over his face, right? Danny didn't care if he was seen. Still, he pulled his hood up along with Colleen and Jessica. The man who was Daredevil actually fit in best with the suit he was wearing and the cane he pretended to use in front of him.

They followed Claire through the hallways of an overcrowded building. There were people flocking everywhere and it was a mob of noise, indistinguishable and irritating. She had them pause at the doors to X-ray and checked the room out ahead, returning after a moment to signal them entry.

There was a woman lying on the table, a nurse providing company. Claire must have told the nurse to expect visitors because she was unfazed to see them gather around. The patient craned her head to look up at them, but it lasted only a moment, the exertion proving too much.

Danny turned to Claire. “What's wrong with her?”

“This is Maggie Lewis, 32, grocery store employee and a married mother of two.” Peering at the frail, inanimate woman, she continued. “Mrs. Lewis came to the hospital three days ago, complaining of being too tired to do anything. After a day here, she couldn't even bring herself to chew food, stand, or go to the bathroom. Now, she can barely move and her breathing is dangerously slow.”

“You have no idea what's wrong with her?” asked Colleen.

She and the nurse exchanged looks before the latter answered. “We've run a battery of tests and it tells us her body is failing. Oddly, like it's too weak to keep functioning properly. Almost like it's..”

“Too _tired_ ,” Claire finished. “Everything's in perfect order and it's still just quitting on her.”

“On the phone you said there were other patients in similar condition,” Danny brought up.

“That's right,” Claire confirmed. “Two days after Mrs. Lewis was admitted, Kim tells me a second and then third person came in complaining of similar inability to complete the most basic tasks. And they just keep multiplying. There are dozens of patients right now. The CDC has been called for a potential unknown contagion… It's chaos.”

“So you think this is our kind of thing?” Jessica questioned. “Somebody might be running some freaky experiment?”

“Or intentionally poisoning people, yes.”

Matt indicated what he was already beginning to think. “We knew Heart would make a move. This has to be it.”

“I'm trying to figure out where these people might have been, what they ate, what might have happened that they have in common,” she shared. “But even if this is our patient zero, she can't bring herself to talk or do much of anything. She lies here and we keep her alive with machines. Hopefully the other patients can tell us something useful. We have to figure out what's going on, fast.”

Danny nodded. “Good idea. We'll see what we can learn out there.”

“I'm going to assist Claire,” announced Colleen abruptly. She walked over and put a hand on the stressed woman's shoulder. “I've got your back.”

She appeared a little surprised, but grateful. “Thanks.”

He tried to catch her eye, wondering on her choice, and Matt leaving drew his gaze instead.

“I'll reach out to some contacts, try and identify the source. You and Jessica can check out those properties Ward made a list of that Kuo had him buy under false names. Could be they're using one of them to make whatever's making people sick.”

Hardly in the mood for argument, he went along with the idea. It was a solid plan. He reached for his phone to call Ward for an update and to get the list of locations they would need to explore, heading for the exit.

“Can I drive?”

“No.”

Jessica made a face, lowering her hood. “Be cool, Rand.”

Ward picked up and he quickly relayed the information before inquiring for the locations. Plopping onto the front of his car, she impatiently waited, eying the driver's side. She was not driving.

He lowered his hood and used the roof of the car to write down the addresses. Danny brought the conversation to an end, eager to hit the road. Driving was a fun thing he enjoyed. Jessica wasn't getting to steal his opportunity and when she saw that was the case, she pouted her way into the passenger seat.

Climbing behind the wheel, he dug into his pocket for the keys. His fingertips were touching them when Jessica leaned forward, peering through the windshield. He looked at her right as she muttered an irritated curse.

There were uniformed police officers approaching the car, hands on their holstered weapons. Four of them. Two came from behind the car and two from the front. He got out and Jessica copied his action, both with matching expressions of annoyance.

“Is there a problem, officer?” he asked politely.

“Is this your car, sir?” the cop closest to him from in front probed.

“Yes it's mine. My name is Danny Rand. You may have heard of me.”

“No need to get agitated, sir,” the female officer behind the first warned him.

He frowned. “I'm not.”

The pair behind them separated. One came near Jessica and the other near him. They drew their weapons and pointed them at the back of their heads, or the front of his rather, as he turned around to glare at the man with a gun now in his face.

“What do you think you're doing? We're not a threat.”

The female cop stared coldly at him. “We have reason to believe this car was stolen.”

“What? That's ridiculous.”

“Keep both hands where I can see them and put them on the hood of the car,” the cop with the gun pointed at him ordered.

“No, I won't.”

Jessica sighed loudly, drawing his gaze, and obeyed the order. “Come on, Danny. Just do it. It's not a problem.”

“What are you talking about? Of course it is-”

His protest was interrupted. “Sir, don't make me use my Taser.”

He narrowed his eyes at the guy blatantly holding a regular gun. “Are you joking?”

A smug smile appeared on his face. “Accidents happen.”

“Danny. Do it.”

Comprehension settled over him. He turned slowly around to look at the male cop stood by the front of his car.

“Who do you work for?”

Satisfied, the man rolled up a sleeve to expose the dog tattoo on his upper forearm. “Now you're getting it. Hands on the hood.”

Reluctantly he listened and did as he was told. He peered across the car at Jessica on the other side, wondering why she was choosing to listen to them. They could easily pound these corrupt cops into the ground. Although appearance-wise, it would seem like Danny Rand assaulted law enforcement officers on the job. What were they hoping to accomplish here?

Briefly searched, his cell phone, wallet, and car keys were taken from him. Handcuffs were applied to his wrists and they were guided into separate police cars. His car was trailing the one Jessica occupied and so he bid his time, watching to see if she did anything.

They arrived at the precinct without incident and it occurred to him she might have been seeking which precinct they worked out of. Ah, naturally, the private investigator was using the inconvenient and unlawful arrest as a scouting opportunity. Excellent. Maybe.

The pair of them were led into the station and it became immediately clear this was big. Police were lining up to bear witness as they were taken back, further into the building. Their arrival was anticipated and celebrated. To these people, the Defenders were nothing more than enemies and traitors of the coming world, according to sporadic jeers and cheering at their lock-up.

Every single member of the force occupying this precinct were members of Cerberus. The lead cop, whose name badge read Miller, informed them of this revelation. He was proud of it, and so were his partner and other associates judging by their attitudes of superiority and accomplishment. How did they expect to keep them here without a legal reason to hold them?

After placing them in a jail cell, they were left alone and silence followed. He or Jessica could easily break out if they wanted to. What were they thinking? Jessica didn't seem worried or eager to make a scene.

“What else are you hoping to find out?” he questioned, not exactly eager to spend very long in a jail cell.

“I want to see if they call anyone. If that masked jackass shows or Kuo himself, I figure we have a chance to get at 'em.”

“Not concerned about what it's going to look like if we take out an entire building of cops?”

“Nope.”

“I have a reputation I'd like to avoid tarnishing if it's possible,” he reminded unhappily. “I don't want Rand Enterprises to lose business because of me.”

“Except anyone affiliated with Heart,” she corrected.

“Except them.”

Silence pervaded again as they awaited a visit from someone at a higher position of command. Surely two of the Defenders would warrant such a person. The sound of the door opening didn't occur for at least another hour.

He sat up to see six police officers filling the room, weapons drawn. A seventh man entered carrying a small metal case. Setting it down on the desk by the wall, he undid the clasps and opened it. There were syringes attached to hypodermic needles laying on soft material designed to hold them.

“What's that?” demanded Jessica.

Miller waltzed into the room, hearing her question and replying with a growing smirk. “It's your medicine.”

Another cop stepped closer to the bars. “You resist the injection and you will be shot.”

“What is it?” she insisted, moving away from the door to the cell.

Danny angrily put himself up against the bars. “You can't do this. It's illegal. I want to call a lawyer.”

“Oh I'm sure your corporate lawyers can-”

“Lieutenant!”

Miller did not seem to like being interrupted. “You better have a damn good reason for coming in here now, Jerry.”

“Uh…” The desk clerk he'd seen on the way in hesitated before giving his message. “There's a man at the front desk who insists on the release of our two prisoners. He has paperwork to get it done.”

In disbelief, he stared at the messenger. “That's impossible. We only got them in here an hour ago. How the hell does he even know they're here? Who is he?”

“He's with Interpol,” the man said, speaking hushed about such a label. “Showed me his badge. His name is Luther James. I think we have to do what he says.”

Jessica leaned in to whisper she had met the man. He'd tried to blow her up. Huh?

“Goddamn what?” Miller practically stomped out of the room in a rage to go see the person requesting their release.

The man returned, fuming wordlessly, a minute later. Another man was with him, smiling pleasantly at everyone. He wore a nice suit and bore a very professional exterior.

“Ah, gentlemen. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation. There simply _must_ have been a mix-up to see these two behind bars.”

This Luther James had an accent. Originating somewhere in Britain he assumed. Why was he helping them?

“I usually grant my private informants the finest of care. I truly am distressed this mistake happened at all, really. Well, if you would be so kind.”

The cop by the cell door looked to his boss and Miller begrudgingly ordered him to open the cell and release them. He did, allowing Danny and Jessica to move out of the small space into the wider room. The officers standing around gave them space, frowning or outright glaring, but nothing more.

Miller walked alongside James, who prattled on about something or other that had to do with the legal system he just didn't care to hear. Their belongings were handed back to them at the front desk and then they were walking outside. Miller did not join them, and it left the two alone with their liberator.

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Jessica interrogated. “Why do you try to kill me one day and play savior the next? What's your game?”

A black car was idling by the curb and James referred to it as he supplied his answers.

“I made a less than legal business deal I later came to regret. I appreciate money, not savagery. Now, I have other business to attend to, but you are _very_ welcome.”

“I didn't say thank you,” she uttered crossly.

The man strolled up to the rear door of the car, regarding them with approval. “Do tell Mr. Meachum it is regrettable what transpired partially because of my business involvement. And I am terribly sorry he never had a real father. My heartfelt sympathies go out to the young man.”

It took everything not to tear the door off its hinges and demand specific answers when the guy shut it in their faces. Jessica was probably contemplating a similar reaction by the look in her eyes and the manner in which she was examining where she could get a good grip. Neither of them did those things and they watched the car merge into traffic and drive away.

He hadn't made the connection prior to the help getting into his car, but he was making it now.

“His name, Luther James… Karen Page and them think he sent the document to Rand Enterprises that the board uncovered. The reason we ever found where they were experimenting on Ward.”

Jessica glanced at him and started striding quickly down the sidewalk. He matched her pace, thinking about the long walk they had ahead of them, and how the dirty cops were liable to be an issue. This cult from Europe was really becoming a pain. Why they would provide Kuo with such aid he didn't understand.

“Obaktu Enterprises needs to go.” Jessica determined. “We either expose them or destroy them. It's gotta be done.”

/

Ward wasn't sleeping again. True, for him to be aware of it meant he wasn't sleeping either. But it was only a few minutes past midnight and he wasn't the one of them insisting on returning to work tomorrow.

Luke, Jessica, and Matt were seated at varying points in the living room, reaching an end to their discussion. A mysterious illness was spreading throughout the city, an entire police precinct were members of Cerberus, and they couldn't guess what move Kuo might make next. He was evidently trying to apply pressure on the city, weakening its residents and positioning his own people to take control.

It didn't seem fathomable he would succeed at such an ambitious and improbable effort. Someone couldn't simply take over a city without an immediate response from the government. Kuo chose foolhardy actions in the past, but this was especially unbelievable.

Maybe it was a good thing for Ward to return to work. At the office, he might be able to uncover information they couldn't on the outside. He'd go himself, but at the moment his services were better utilized as Iron Fist over wealthy public figure Danny Rand.

He got up, tired of feeling like they were treading water. Colleen was away again and he was getting the impression she was avoiding him. As much as someone could when a portentous doom was creeping their way. He advised the others to get some sleep and entered the hall, slowly moving to the bedroom of interest.

Like he did many times the previous night, he put his ear to the door and then changed his mind. It was about time he went in and used actual words with the man. Hesitating a moment longer, he quietly opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

Danny froze. There was a lamp on by the bed illuminating the man lying on his side, facing the door. His eyes staring at the door didn't react, didn't seem to see him. As he dared walk closer to the bed, he remained stationary, gaze locked where it was. It was kind of disturbing.

Somehow it felt wrong to break the quiet. On impulse, he went around to the other side and slipped onto the bed. He took care to stay above the sheets, painfully mindful of the evil that transpired on the lower half of it, and who knew how many times after that day. His addition to the bed did not go unnoticed.

The other man turned onto his other side to face him. He swallowed hard, expecting the exhaustion but not the haunted stare. His head had to be filled with memories and worries on a constant level, robbing him of sleep. An overactive mind was the enemy of clear-headed calm that rest required.

“What are you doing?” asked Ward.

He paused for a few seconds before deciding screw it, and adjusted himself to slide beneath the sheets. Danny was reassured by his flippant decision when there was no change in demeanor with the older man. His hand fit into the hand of the arm laying on the bed and his right hand closed on top of it. Hand enclosed in a warm grip, Ward just blinked tiredly at him.

Too tired to be annoyed or sarcastic… This was serious. He fought to keep the smile he felt off his face for the inappropriate timing.

“You have to think about something that doesn't bother you. Focus on it.”

“Everything does,” he said. “Things Kuo said to me keep running through my head, I can't stop thinking about how Harold's out there somewhere, and I'm afraid of what's going to happen next. It's like a television loop you can't shut off.”

“You can.” Danny promised, appreciative of the honesty and openness. “Do you trust me?”

“I do. Although really I'm thankful you trusted _me_. All of you. And you didn't abandon me. Most people write me off. You found a group of people that don't do that to anyone, and they care. It'd be nice to have that.”

“You do have that,” he reconciled. “It's like I said the first time you turned away from Heart's influence. You're not alone and you only have to try.”

“Okay,” came the easy reply.

He thought there was doubt and guilt in his voice. Ward was alive and physically healed, but he was struggling. There was never a time he accepted death or failure in its entirety. To eventually do so and have it thrown back at you, perpetuating a life of anxiety and depression would be hard. An effort to alleviate the loneliness was a tiny thing he could think to help.

“Close your eyes.”

Ward didn't close his eyes.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered a second time.

The other man sighed and let his eyes shut. Danny waited to be sure he was keeping them that way, and then closed his own eyes.

“Focus on breathing, like I taught you with meditation,” he instructed. “Be mindful of the natural ebb and flow of the breaths.”

He listened until he could confirm that was happening. “I'm right here. It's okay.”

Ward's hand moved from where it was clutching his pillow to Danny's arms, gripping the one resting on the bed. To make sure it was real maybe, or to keep him there. His hold was like a lifeline, and he didn't know for which of them.

Minutes later at most, an alteration in the breathing pattern informed him Ward was asleep. His eyes opened and he lay on his side watching him sleep, ruminating on the mean kid he used to know and the melancholy man he'd grown into. The family he once foolishly hoped to rejoin was an ignorant desire tempered and erased by reality. A reality that patience and time proved to show him there was family to have faith in. One man worth every safeguard he could summon.

After a while, he found himself starting to drift off. It was quiet, and warm. His eyes slid closed.

It could have been a minute or an hour, but he was jolting upright in the bed, woken by the screaming and thrashing of the man beside him. The movements must have woke the other, because he nearly rolled off the bed and then sat up, gasping in terror. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat, face sheening with a thin layer as well.

Danny reached out to pull him away from the edge of the bed, afraid he might topple off, and Ward snapped the arm out of his grasp. Cowering in the other direction, he glanced fearfully toward him. Immense and observable relief flooded his system and he released the tension.

“S-Sorry,” he uttered, a heavy and slightly rasping quality to his voice.

The door banged open and he urgently waved them away. There was reassurance in their expressions to find no one was actually in the process of being attacked or anything, but dismay of the nightmare occurring lingered. With three figures looming wide awake at the doorway, Danny couldn't resist.

He leaned in, throwing an arm gently around his shoulders. “Look what would happen if any of the monsters turned real. I wouldn't want to be them.”

Drawing closer made him realize there were tears streaming from his eyes and he was a mess. By releasing the tension, he released every emotion trying to claw its way to the surface. A sob escaped and his hand rose to conceal his mouth, ashamed. Exhausted and scared, who the hell wouldn't be in his shoes?

Danny caught the hand before it covered his face and fitted their fingers together. He tugged the weeping man into a hug. Ward fell against him, so he held tight. They shared many mutual understandings, like how it was to discover others' intentions were to use, and both were nearly ruined by an avaricious man who was supposed to be family.

The spent man stifling sobs into his chest was impassioned by his own shortcomings. It impressed upon him his life of abuse handled stoically, resistant to temptations his status offered. He didn't value the petty things when it came down to it. Ward had heart, and it freed him from ever truly falling victim to the wishes of those who would use him for selfish purpose.

He was meant to be a living weapon, someone who destroyed. It was his choice to choose a life of being a light for people, saving and protecting instead of solely causing damage. Danny could do that here.

“Walk where I walk, and they can never defeat you.”

Repeating it over and over, he sought to be a comfort and the crying softened. The noise as the bedroom door was shut again took his attention away from Ward for just a moment, noting the others had made their exit. He considered they should be getting rest as well, and laid them on the mattress to lie more comfortably.

Like before, he watched him grapple with intrusive thoughts and feelings, eyes shut tight, face scrunching. But it wasn't too long and then the face smoothed out, breathing adopting a rhythm as he slept. Danny felt confident they would sleep through to the morning as he drifted from consciousness, murmuring the phrase one final time for his own sake.


	26. Chapter 25: Started This

_**“Just remember, you started this.”** _   
_**-Luke Cage** _

The return to work may have been a mistake. In his head, he convinced himself it was another thing he was putting off if he didn't go. There was an unspoken warning also, that he was in danger if he went. But it was a public place, which put it firmly in the category of areas he was allowed to venture while Danny and his friends investigated Heart's interest in New York. And he'd lose his mind sitting around at home.

He hadn't slept well since the plane. His mind wouldn't shut off and his worries of what might happen next kept him awake at night. Unexpectedly, Danny's company was the one thing that allowed him to get any sleep.

The shadows beneath his eyes were the first thing he was teased about, and it marked the start of how his morning would be here.

“Aw, you must be sure to get your beauty sleep, handsome,” the man waiting for him in his office chair commented. “Don't want to spoil the eye candy you give the rest of us.”

Matt walked in just behind him, and the disappointment showed on his face. His hands folded into his lap and he crossed the legs on top of Ward's desk, getting comfortable. He speedily covered his initial reaction to the escort, sly smile returning.

“You brought a friend. Well, I'm up for a threesome if that's what you like.”

Of course, he wasn't able to venture alone quite yet. He suspected Danny wouldn't be letting him do that until Kuo and Harold were dealt with. Why the heck was he permitting Rand to manage his life? He blamed the lack of decent sleep and filed it away for later.

“I'd like you to remove yourself from my office.” Approaching his desk, he stayed on the other side, determined not to be outdone for once. “If you really want to get me hard, you can leave the building too.”

“Ward,” Matt said sharply, cautioning him to avoid provoking a foe.

An absolutely mischievous look was directed his way as he lowered his legs to the floor. “Hm.. The dark circles make you a bit rugged actually. Very pleasing.”

His jaw tightened. “Get out.”

“I don't think I will,” Marcus told him, then glanced about the room pointedly. “I see you had the cameras removed. Taking a stand, are we?”

Glaring, he put his hands down on the desk and leaned in. “That's right. I'll be ready to wipe Heart out of Rand the second your leader is gone.”

The threat didn't seem to bother him. “And not a moment earlier.”

He stood, stepping around to his side of the desk. Ward resolved to stay put. He wouldn't fear these people anymore. He'd shown embarrassing amounts of vulnerability the previous night. It was likely the right thing to let happen though, because now he felt certain they would never control him again.

Delighted by his unwavering dedication, the man turned to tap a pile of folders on the desk.

“These need your signature. Don't worry, they're actual Rand business. Nothing to do with Heart.”

“I'll determine that,” he snapped.

The smile softened. “Yes you will.”

Marcus meandered to the door, slowing as he passed by Matt to scan him head to toe. Placing a hand on the doorframe, he assured he would return before the hour was up. He had a few errands to run to maintain the facade of him giving a damn about this stuffy office life.

It was a conventional hard line company. Eventually he would remove his father's influence completely. For the time being, there were remnants pervading to sustain the progression toward change. Heart coming in and blackmailing the whole board didn't do wonders for his end goal either. But Danny said he saw the company as being a force for good in the world and it was admirable. He agreed it would be nice for someone to stand by such an undertaking.

Oh, look. He was musing on a future. That was a first since his brush with sweet, sweet death.

“You okay?”

Ward glanced at his bodyguard, realizing he'd been zoned out a bit, staring at his desk. “Ah, yeah. Fine.”

He sat in his desk chair and motioned for Matt to have a seat too. His fingers ran along the fabric of his tie, unmotivated to do any work. The phone rang, startling him. So much for fearless.

Megan normally answered calls, but he didn't see her at her desk when he arrived. She was probably on an errand. He could handle answering a phone. Still, it was effort he would rather not indulge.

Sighing, he reached to answer it. “Ward Meachum.”

“You make an astonishing dead man.”

His eyes flickered to Matt, who immediately noticed, which let him know he was already listening to the person on the other end. Inhaling and exhaling, he played it cool. There was nothing they could do to him they hadn't already done.

“It's how I feel, you bastard,” he admitted angrily.

“For now, keep doing as you are. It's good of you to reclaim routine.”

“Excuse me?”

The nerve of him to say something like that. His experimentation just about put him in an early grave, and Ward had to balance from the fallout. He was tired, done with this shit, and he was stuck in it.

“Heart appreciates your sacrifice and loyalty. Tell me, do you feel any different?”

His instinct was to ignore the question. He was ignoring the possibility of any change being possible. There was no sign of it and for him it meant he was the same. He was unnecessarily stressing by worrying any further on the subject. Since he was normal, he concentrated on the insane appreciation for his “sacrifice and loyalty”. Like he'd ever had a choice.

“Get fucked, Kuo.”

He moved to hang up but Matt placed a hand on his arm, shaking his head. With great reluctance, he returned the phone to his ear. There was quiet. Maybe the other end was gone.

Ward looked at Matt uncertainly, and then Kuo's voice came on.

“There is only danger and pain if you stay the course of aligning with the rejects of society. Why embrace chaos when you can have order and peace?”

“You've given me danger and pain. How can I expect anything else?”

“Overcoming trials is the requirement of humanity,” came the smooth response. “You did so beautifully, as I believed you would. I am encouraged to welcome a new future. I still want you by my side.”

The last thing he wanted was to join Kuo and embrace his psycho ideology. He was a hypocrite and didn't seem to think that conflicted with his harmonious wishes. After the operation to steal the Egg of the Undying from K'un-Lun, he understood the organization coveted power above all else. To this man, a new world probably wouldn't be acceptable unless he was in charge.

“Everybody I care about would die for your new world. What does that tell you?”

A brief pause, and then, “That you should choose better friends.”

The line disconnected. He put the phone back. Huh. That was fun.

Someone knocked on the door and his head shot up, wary and guarded. It was a friendly face and he relaxed, standing to meet her halfway across the room. She was someone to be thanked for helping save his life. He might be bitter and finding the ordeal of living unpleasant for now, but no need to spread the failure.

“Mr. Meachum, you look no worse for wear.”

He shook the hand she extended with two hands. “I hear you're part of the reason for it, Nina. Thank you so much.”

“I worried. I wasn't the only one.” She peeked at Matt sitting by his desk and leaned in to speak quietly, tone conspiratorial. “A couple years ago the board was overjoyed to be rid of you and your sister. Now, they hang on every word of news concerning you. I've sat in on the most recent board meetings since your absence, and until Patterson returned to work, they discussed nothing but where you might be and how you might be able to solve the problem hanging over their heads.”

Ward offered her a genuine guarantee. “I'm going to take care of it. I promise you.”

“Don't feel like you have to do it alone.”

“I know. Just keep doing what you're doing.”

His face fell. Geez, he was echoing words Kuo told him not two minutes ago. She noticed the altered mood and commented on it.

“Are you okay?”

He frowned. “Everybody needs to stop asking me that.”

It didn't escape his attention it gave Matt pause as he got short with her. The man was clearing a space on Ward's desk for legal cases he was in the process of working, removing folders from his bag. He was bringing a small stack out of the bag to the desktop when his attitude darkened, freezing him mid-way.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it.”

Ward kept her from thinking she was to blame a second longer. “Please don't apologize. You're being kind. I'm the jerk.”

She smiled warmly. “I already knew _that_ , Mr. CEO.”

“Right,” he laughed.

The conversation put him at ease to have someone talking to him like this. Someone who didn't expect anything from him or who wasn't putting on a front because of his name and rank. Joy used to be that for him, then her unsettling replacement, who treated him similarly but always made him feel the opposite of ease.

“The work continues to pile up while I'm away so I'd better get back to my floor.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged. “Thank you again.”

She nodded. “You're welcome.”

At the door, she made a suggestion. “Did you want to do lunch some time? When things are a little less..scary and intimidating?”

“Definitely.”

Smiling, he returned to his seat. Matt peered in his direction through red shades.

“It's nice to find a regular person who gets it.”

“Yep. That it is.”

His gaze landed on the tall stack of files. It wouldn't hurt to do a minor amount of work, he supposed. He took the first one and set it beside the others. Flipping it open, the words blurred together. Wow, his focus just wasn't in it right now. He had to find inspiration somewhere.

“Do you have a sunburn, or are you always this hot?”

Appalled, he gaped at the man smirking at him. He shut the door and leisurely began making his way into the office. Plopping down on the couch against the wall, he made himself comfortable.

“Oh… You must be the lawyer,” Marcus discerned, taking in the blindness factor, followed by the case files laid out on the desk. “Damn. If being sexy was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged!”

Offended by the open ogling, he bit down on his bottom lip to restrain himself. He couldn't get violent in the office. Matt's lips quirked, amused. His fingers continued tracing the document he was reading.

“You're aware we met, yes?”

“Mhm...”

“You take Ward anywhere he doesn't want to go again, I'll break your legs.”

At least he trusted his babysitter was tough as hell and perfectly suitable for the job. Besides, this was normalizing. He was normalizing and there were lecherous assholes everywhere. It was fine.

He glanced at his watch. It was five minutes to the hour. Ward sighed, internally berating for deciding he had to come to work and be “normal”. What a stupid idea.

“Don't worry, sweetheart.”

Ward looked up.

“Anytime you're ready to consummate this thing, I'll be waiting.”

A chuckle from Matt, entertained by the boldness and cleverness of his teasing. He presumed as long as there was no physical threat to his well-being, he wouldn't be breaking cover to ease the flirtatious aspect of his coworker. Wonderful.

His face planted into the surface of the desk, mortification complete.

/

First shift left the office shortly after one in the afternoon. He had a court date scheduled months ago to attend. Matt's friends arrived to bring him to his replacement watcher before he went. The friends were another lawyer, Foggy Nelson, and the reporter, Karen Page. Flashes of the surveillance footage came to him when he saw them, lives endangered because of who their friends were. It hardly seemed fair. Why did the world persist like this?

His watcher turned out to be Frank Castle, back on his feet in recovery, and his friend, Micro, was with him. There were healing bruises dotting the side of his face but that was the only obvious sign of prior injury. If he was hurting, it didn't show.

“Let's get some lunch,” Karen suggested.

Ward winced, unexpectedly getting a baseball cap fixed onto his head. He set a hand on top of it, staring wide-eyed and perplexed. The replacement bodyguard grinned proudly, tugging at the brim of his own baseball cap.

“Relax, Meachum. It's easy to blend into the crowd when you act the part.”

“I guess,” he muttered, glancing around their surroundings.

He eyed the reporter and lawyer, who were doing their best to appear comfortable. They were stirring to behave properly, tip-toeing about him like he was fragile, while pretending they weren't.

“Hot dogs alright with everyone?” asked Nelson.

In agreement, they walked a few blocks to enter the nearby park. They stopped by the vender and Karen stepped forward to do the ordering when he tried. Frank shook his head.

“Don't draw attention to yourself. Rule number one of blending in.”

“Ordering food from a cart is completely blending in,” he insisted.

Frank shrugged and changed the subject. “Damn I'm glad to be on my feet and moving around again. Holed up so long was driving me crazy.”

He didn't mention how it was because he almost died. This man had enough personal nightmare issues to last him forever, and he nearly died protecting him. Saying thanks just seemed hollow. Everything did.

Ward voiced what he was suspecting. “Danny wants me to go home, doesn't he?”

A bit of a side-eye preceded the response. “Yup. There's too many moving parts to the plan.”

“The plan we know practically nothing about,” he complained. “I don't understand how the Defenders can beat the supposedly all powerful 'five fingers' of the Hand, but can't beat a single one of them now.”

“It's not as simple as that. It never is with these plotting, manipulative types,” Frank replied.

Karen, Nelson, and Micro returned with food and drinks in hand. He accepted his without a word, just holding it. Food didn't sound good to him. All he wanted were answers and to be free of the bullshit that was his life.

They resumed walking, his glower marking every step his feet made, wondering the point of it. A few minutes ticked by and then Micro located a picnic table and sat on one of the benches. Karen and Nelson followed, while Frank slid in front of him when he chose to remain standing.

“Haven't been sleeping well; I can see that. I'm gonna go ahead and assume it's why you're in such a shit mood.”

His mouth twisted into a parody of a smile, speaking with condescension.

“You people are scrambling and Danny's an idiot. He thinks he can keep me out of everything and win on his own. When is he going to learn?”

Marcus hovering and playfully harassing him the entire morning, prevented him from getting much work done and caused him to think on his reality. It left him to wonder and anger. Becoming angry at Danny was especially irritating because he was the same person currently holding him together, making him determine to find a reason to live and fight. A reason he still hadn't found, despite working to appreciate little things.

“He's trying to learn how to keep you safe,” Micro pointed out. “These assholes aren't making it simple.”

Ward shook his head in denial. “They've done all they can to me. I'm not afraid of them anymore. Let them come. Whatever happens to me, it won't change that Danny and the rest are going to end their threat to save the city.”

“Ah.”

He glared at Frank, annoyed he seemed to think he knew something about him.

“You don't think you matter. You think you've got nothing left to lose.”

“Is it because your sister left?” asked Karen.

Of course she knew. What didn't everybody know about his life? He'd valued privacy before, but apparently the option wasn't one for him any longer. Great.

“I get feeling disconnected. I know what it's like to be standing in broad daylight, and feel everything is still dark. You should be thankful you're in control of yourself, even if people try to control you on the outside. Cause me, on the inside I am a mess. I'm rage and hate and violence and nothing nice. Hurting people makes me feel better.”

“Oh good,” the lawyer said, sarcastic. “That's the motivational positivity we need.”

Hm. He might like that man. Ward glanced at Micro, lowering his drink away from his face and obviously itching to say something. When he didn't, he turned back to Frank, still confrontational.

“It's better to be pissed than scared, and you're neither. You're feeling nothing. No, not nothing...”

“It's my fault,” he muttered, sidestepping the big man and taking a seat on the edge of the bench.

He set the hot dog and soda on the table but didn't touch them further.

“If I hadn't let my father control me for so long, none of this would probably be happening.”

“Rationalize it, pretend it didn't happen, make-believe it won't happen again. That's what the abuser wants you to do. Makes it easier when they inevitably hurt you again.”

His eyes went to Karen. “Bet you didn't do bad things to try and fix it.”

Her reply came immediate. “But I did.”

It sounded like a thing she had been anxious to say out loud to somebody for a long time. Beside her, Nelson was looking at her with curiosity and uncertainty. He knew his excuses for the things Harold did were pathetic. Even after everything, part of him wished to defend the man who was his father.

“Frank Salm and Terry Janis,” he stated from memory. “People who died because I didn't want to do a bad thing, let them into my company. They had nothing to do with anything and they died. Why do I warrant such protection? I should be nobody too.”

“You know,” Micro began, speaking thoughtfully. “I can relate somewhat. I was asked to do something that was wrong, pretend things were fine the way they were, and I watched it blow up in my face when instead, I tried to do the right thing.”

Ward peered across the table at him, failing to see how his situation connected to his own.

“You tried to do the right thing and it blew up in your face,” he explained, seeing the confusion in his gaze. “You see others trying to do the right thing and it mostly blows up in their faces too. And when you were dying, you saw all your worries vanishing. It would be easier to die and let it all go.”

“I've worked hard my whole life,” he said. “You think I want to die?”

“CEO of an enormous company at seventeen. Fifteen years old when you were in charge of another company to prepare you for the big job. I'll bet not a day has gone by where you didn't think your life sucked since you were a kid.”

He looked away, surveying the park surrounding them. Laughter and shouting of a few kids playing together off in the distance could be heard. Someone walked by talking animatedly on their cell phone. A family was enjoying a picnic together on the grass. Two construction workers were having an argument. Life.

“I'm tired. Everybody looks at me and they see white privilege. They see someone handed everything he has from birth. They see someone who has no right to be unhappy or ungrateful. They don't see me.”

“So you have nothing to come back to,” Frank guessed. “When I was overseas fighting, stuck in combat, I would think to myself, 'I gotta get home'. I'd think that over and over in my head.”

Ward switched his exploratory gaze to his hot dog, blankly looking at it.

“I lost that home and look what happened to me,” said Frank. “I fell to pieces. You're never supposed to go to pieces. Do that, and it's near fuckin' impossible to ever come back.”

He struggled to hold in a yawn. The older man wasn't boring him. He was physically tired to add to the mental exhaustion. It was a fantastic thing to deal with daily. This rut was driving him mad.

“You need a home,” he told him. “Something to get back to. Something to give reason behind your actions.”

Yawning into his hand, he scoffed at the advice. “What's that supposed to be?”

Micro caught his eye as he began smiling. “Frank and I tracked the motel just outside the city where the Watch Dog organization has taken up residence. Maybe we go pay them a visit. Have Frank do what he does best.”

Interestingly, the only one seeming put off by the idea was the lawyer. He frowned, looking between everyone surprised and hesitant.

“Whoa, whoa,” he uttered, attempting to pump the breaks on the plan. “We're resorting to recklessly seeking out the people who probably wouldn't mind hurting every one of us?”

Ward smiled a little, interested in the idea very much. Maybe they could hurt these guys and their operation. Maybe he could be of use instead of a constant target and liability. He bit into his hot dog, absentmindedly chewing while he mulled over how things might result.

“Like death, I mean,” Nelson clarified needlessly, staring at him.

Since everybody else was on board, the plan was settled and Nelson reluctantly went along with it. They continued eating their lunch, discussing “Watch Dog” and their masked leader. Ward shared what he knew about the man introduced to him representing the European organization, Dr. Thomas Oberman. He didn't know a lot, but he did know they were cult-like, well-armed, and dangerous. Danny and the others were working out whether the masked leader had an ability of some sort, much like the super strength or near invulnerability of Jessica Jones and Luke Cage.

They determined it would be best to try and capture the leader alive. He likely could answer quite a few of their questions if they got him talking. Engaging him away from Kuo and Heart was the only way they were going to discover how far his loyalty extended to the cause for a new world order.

After everyone finished eating, they took Karen's car out of the city. The ride was mostly silent, the lawyer occasionally speaking up to fill the quiet with random chatter concerning how stupid this was to do. Karen mentioned he didn't have to come and he told her that of course he would come. Huh.

She parked down the road and they walked the remaining distance, using a thick grouping of trees to cover their approach. Frank handed him a gun and Micro took out his own handgun. Seeing this, Karen reached into her bag and withdrew a gun of her own.

“So I assume we wait here and you do you?” she asked.

Frank nodded his head once. “Pretty much.”

Civilians stay put. Sure. Made sense. He scanned the parking lot for signs of the black trucks or masked guys he was told these people used. He searched for anything remotely suspicious. Nothing. Regular cars. Nobody in sight.

They ducked behind some trees when a guy came around the side of the motel. He was dressed in plain clothes, jeans and a jacket, but his left arm was hanging kind of funny. Frank identified the man was carrying a big gun against his side, hidden, hence the awkward posture. Guess they had the right place.

They waited, Frank sneaking across the parking lot. Ward looked away when the guard got his neck snapped. The man jogged out of sight, scouting the surrounding area for other lookouts, and he stood up.

Karen narrowed her eyes from her crouched position against a tree. “Ward, stay down.”

“I'm done doing nothing,” he said, removing the baseball cap.

He ran over pavement, cussing following before the woman herself did too. Nelson came with her, glaring at him like he was the biggest idiot he'd ever seen. They tried to ask him what he was thinking angrily and fearfully, but he ignored them and announced his presence.

“Hey! Cerberus! Watch Dog! Wach-Whatever! I want to talk to your leader! The man who won't show his face! Is he here? I know he's here!”

Quiet fell. There was a gunshot behind the motel and some muffled sounds afterward. Frank encountering another armed perimeter guard most likely.

His gun rose and Karen copied the action, aiming at the front of the motel in general. Micro emerged out of their hiding spot with his arm extended holding his own gun when a motel door opened. Several did actually. Eight of them. Four on the ground floor, spread out, and four on the second level.

Men wearing gray armor and masks exited the different rooms, assault rifles held at the ready. Ward scanned their black visor covered eyes and scarf covered lower faces which made them appear identical. There were a lot of these guys.

“It's Wachhund, Mr. Meachum.”

He recognized the voice and the face belonging to it. It was the German man Marcus had him meet in his office, Dr. Oberman, dressed in the usual fine suit. He stood on the balcony at the railing, peering down on them through his glasses.

Was this the leader or some front man? Would a shadowy cult organization risk putting their leader out in the open?

“I want to talk to the leader,” he declared. “The masked man with some kind of power. If you're not him, I'm not interested.”

“Oh I seriously doubt you're not interested.”

Ward watched him push his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose , riveted. Okay, so he was accurate there. Very well. If Kuo had expected him to do business with the bookkeeper, he was bound to know a thing or two that would be of benefit.

The man extended his arms briefly as though to showcase he wasn't armed, lowering them again slowly. “You came all this way. Why don't you ask me what you've come to ask?”

“Why?” he asked. “Why do you help Heart?”

“We alone will determine the course of the new world, control how it rises from the ashes of the old one,” he answered like it was simple and obvious. “Ours is a duty to facilitate the transition. Our purpose is eternal.”

His brow creased, frustration seeping in. “Why? Why does this world have to end?”

The man started walking across the landing, heading for the staircase down to them.

“The city will fall, and soon enough the rest of the world will, to ruin and rebirth. It's a cycle which is eternal. How it's always been. This world's time has come.”

He didn't understand at all, basically shouting, “But why?”

“The heroes have led us to this time,” the man strangely claimed, beginning to descend the stairs. “Their efforts to save have attracted dark forces, ensuring its destruction. We are the absence of light, 'eigengrau'. We have no moral guide, no good or bad tasks. We simply exist to temper the fallout so to speak, restore balance.”

Ward thought it over, considering whether he was understanding this correctly. “You don't have a side then. You can't. Right?”

Dr. Oberman glanced at his watch, reaching the base of the staircase. “Time runs out for everything.”

“Except you. Eternity that you claim to be,” he muttered, derisive.

This grabbed the man's attention again. “Fair enough. We perhaps tipped the scales in favor of the new world. It seems only uncolored to gain you the same courtesy. I'll give you a chance to save your old world.”

On either side of him, the others were reacting with mixtures of astonishment and skepticism. It was safe to believe none of them trusted this man or his armed buddies. He listened eagerly, despite knowing how carefully he would have to take anything coming out of the doctor's mouth.

“It's a chemical that excretes from the skin, much like sweat does in a normal human,” he revealed. “Concentrated doses can be given using blood contact or injection. High exposure is toxic to the human body, ultimately fatal.”

Stunned, he put it together. “The sickness spreading throughout the city is from a person?”

“An unusual person like some of your friends,” Dr. Oberman explained. “Someone who just by being, negates and suppresses the special abilities in others at close proximity, acting as a temporary gene correction. In humans, no effect without ingestion or direct contact and it wears off except in lethally high doses.”

Wasn't he supposed to be some scholar? He was sounding more like a scientist or medical professional. It was infuriating how little he knew about anything. These days, he was constantly playing catch up and making discoveries too late.

“Your friend was warned he could not protect this city. He could not even protect his allies. He will fall before the city falls to ash. Mr. Rand failed to listen. He didn't see what was right in front of him. If you fail to pay attention, you will not be able to protect this city either.”

“So there _is_ a chance then,” Ward said. “Why even speak to me if there's no hope you're wrong and the world will be okay?”

“There's always a chance now is not the time,” he admitted. “Everything is capable of change. The selfish can act selflessly. And we are what is called, 'immer wahrend'. It means eternal. We are patient and let things unfold as they were meant to.”

Okay. Somehow he was becoming confused again. These people were working with Heart to hurt the city. But they were talking like it wasn't decided. Were they set on helping whichever side was proving to be the most successful? They were a sort of middle man as it were. How could he show them the world deserved to go on?

“Perhaps the end won't come yet. However, saving this city has a remote chance of succeeding from where you stand now.”

Ward's eyes bulged, processing the double meaning instantly. The others unaware of the threat, he shouted warning for them to run. Micro and the reporter were quick to respond and flee, while Nelson was slower on comprehending the danger. One of the grenades thrown from the balcony clattered onto the ground, rolling rapidly in his direction. Minding his own grenade, he risked kicking it and succeeded in watching it explode against the motel siding, knocking several soldiers down.

Relieved to have a foot and leg, he located the lawyer noticing the immediate threat and freezing up in response. Without thinking, he raced forward and launched off the ground to close the distance faster, shoving into the guy and pushing them away. Ward rolled up and pushed Nelson farther back as the grenade went off.

There was pain in his upraised arm, put there as an automatic but ultimately useless shield for them against the blast. A quick look at the arm stunned him to see there were only a few shallow cuts from gravel rocks spit upward in the far too close for comfort explosion. Oh, the guys with guns were abandoning the motel in haste.

He checked on Nelson to find the man was completely fine except for a scraped knee that put a hole in his pant leg. They'd gotten enough distance between them and the explosive detonation. He heaved a breath of enormous relief.

Frank tore around the side of the building, a fresh cut above his temple. He observed the trucks speeding off and growled a curse word after them. Swinging back to them, he accounted for their exterior well-being before looking rather disappointed and irritated.

“What happened to 'wait here'?”

/

The television was faded noise and color. He didn't really care to be watching TV but it was something to do while he couldn't sleep. Frank sat beside him, silent, both of them appreciating the lack of talking.

Late night news was reporting on the Avengers involved in some skirmish in Eastern Europe. They were dealing with large-scale arms dealers, apparently with plenty of explosions going by the footage shown. His eyes slid closed out of boredom, though his thoughts wouldn't shut up, and he opened them again.

Danny was supposed to be coming soon, replacing Frank. A couple days and he was already sick of trading babysitters. He wondered how they felt about it. Why were they even doing it? He wasn't worth the effort.

Which was why he'd found his reason. The something that would give him a purpose in life and the something to give him strength. It was an utterly simple reason too. Life.

He would determine to live and do all he could to stay alive so he would be able to make use of his life. Ward would live to do right by himself and others. His worth would be in his choices. It was an optimistic kind of path, but he figured the world was always in need of a little more optimism.

“I hear they trained you,” murmured Frank, peeling open eyes he'd closed about twenty minutes ago.

Ward glanced to the man sitting beside him. “You could call it that.”

A disagreeable noise emitted from his mouth. “This is exactly the kind of shit they do to soldiers. Break you down to build you up, they claim. But really, they need you to believe you're nothing without them. Follow orders, don't question, be excellence. Sound familiar?”

“Not the best experience with the military, huh?”

Frank barked a short laugh, repeating his earlier reply. “You could call it that.”

Hesitating, he chose to try. “I hear you had a family. I'm sorry they're gone and I'm sorry you and your friend have been hurt because of me.”

“That wasn't you. Get that through your head,” he insisted stonily. “And yeah I did have a family. A beautiful family. A wife, two kids.”

The man went quiet, staring at the television screen.

Ward shifted on the couch, doing his own intent staring at the glowing screen.

“Thank you for everything.”

“You're welcome.”

Comfortable silence. They half watched the news, half lived inside their own minds. This was their lives. Overthinking, perpetually troubled, and relentlessly dedicated to rising above the turmoil.

Flickering light off the TV lit his left arm up a bit. Ward glanced down and his eyes grew large. The cuts weren't there. They'd been shallow, barely bleeding, but there wasn't a trace of them anywhere. He tucked both arms behind his back like he was stretching and resting them in that position. It was nothing. He wasn't different. He wasn't.


	27. Chapter 26: Life

_**“You healed me, Danny. Saved my life.”** _   
_**-Colleen Wing** _

His son was being reckless. He marched straight into a deadly situation and almost got himself blown up. They were a cult organization of mercenaries. What did he hope to accomplish? All risked for a tiny fraction of information to help citizens falling ill. It was a waste of time and talent.

He stood across the street from Rand Enterprises. No one noticed the former CEO. While he was alive, he considered these ignorant people probably wouldn't have recognized him either. Everyone wrapped up in their own minds and lives, they lacked the ability to pay attention to what mattered.

Rand was a powerful company aligned with a dedicated criminal element. He used them as they undoubtedly used him to get to Ward. If there was one thing he could thank Danny and his friends for, it was his life. Kuo would have been rid of him by now if it wasn't for the city's defensive assortment of freaks nosing where inconvenient. There was use for him as distraction and Harold was more than willing to play the part.

The goals were different today, but coincided, allowing them each to get what they wanted. Heart required opportunity to spread their sickness, while he sought to bring his son back to him. Together, they would both of them succeed. The enemy was divided and would never see it coming.

“Mr. Meachum, are you ready?”

Harold glanced at the man in the suit who currently held Joy's job. That would change. He didn't like the man and would kill him as soon as convenient. It didn't escape his eye how he wormed his way into Ward's presence whenever he could. There was an agenda present, and one he vehemently opposed.

“Yes, I'm ready,” he replied, moving to the passenger door and getting into the car.

“About time,” the driver muttered under her breath impatiently.

For now, Marcus Patterson was too high up in Kuo's organization to be rid of. The woman would likely disagree with the slit throat of her partner as well. Besides, Danny Rand was the larger problem. He didn't approve of the growing attachment between his son and that fool. His child should rely on him alone. He'd tell him what to do.

Ms. Marks pulled the car away from the curb and entered traffic. The man beside her in the front, peered over his shoulder into the backseat. Harold met his gaze.

“I've confirmed the leak. Donald Hooper and Maria Rodriguez are the board members that informed on your son's location.”

“Then they should be commended. To put Ward in excruciating pain like that is unacceptable. Kuo lost his mind doing such a thing to my heir.”

“Right. He's yours to abuse. We know how you operate.”

Ms. Marks smirked at her friend's words and he narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn't expect someone like you to comprehend the importance my son holds to the world.”

“Running your company for you while you play puppet master?” Mr. Patterson inquired rhetorically. “Yeah we got it.”

“How that kid turned out the way he did with you around is astonishing,” the woman dared remark.

They weren't going to pretend they were happy working with him, then fine. He wouldn't pretend either. They didn't like each other and used each other. Fine. So long as he had his son with him, he would suffer them as means to an end.

“Mind your tongue or I'll mind it for you,” he warned.

The woman shut her lips tight, scowling in the rearview mirror. Harold ignored her in favor of checking his watch. Two hours into this test. They didn't know how long they would have.

“Are the others in place?”

“Not yet,” Patterson answered, shifting toward Marks and nodding.

She drove another two blocks and then pulled to the side of the road. They waited in the car while Patterson got out, yanking at the tie around his neck. The man was obviously not in favor of wearing suits. Begrudgingly, Harold admitted he did look the part of a businessman perfectly.

Patterson looked both ways before putting the mask on. He walked into the building. A moment later the fire alarm sounded, loud and piercing. The man strolled casually outside while panicking people streamed by him, failing to notice or care he wore a mask. A few more loitered out irritated and harassed by the inconvenience.

He rolled down the window, watching expectantly.

An older woman threw her hands up at the building. “Is it another false alarm? There isn't even a fire!”

“Damn building is falling apart,” a guy in his 20's complained.

A teenager plopped down lazily on the sidewalk near their car, flicking a lighter in his hand on and off repeatedly. “Somebody should just burn it down and be done with it.”

Harold smiled, knowing Patterson would take the comment as his cue. He was not disappointed.

“You like fire?”

The kid glanced up, bored expression morphing into puzzlement upon seeing the mask. “Huh?”

He held out his arm and curled his hand into a loose fist, fire flaring to life. The teenager stared at the hand acting as a torch in disbelief, looking to the masked face.

“Doesn't that hurt?”

Patterson smiled behind the mask. “You shouldn't play with fire.”

His arm swung and the fire dissipated from his hand, thrown into the top of the building. Several people saw the fireball initially thrown or when it shattered through a window, lighting the top floor instantly. There was screaming and renewed panic. Someone started shouting about the fire and another continued to inquire if everybody was out.

Job complete, the man climbed back in the car. He waited until the vehicle was moving before slipping off the mask. No need to draw excess attention to themselves.

The granted power of K'un-Lun's elixir tied to the individual's deepest wish, whether they were aware of the desire or not. The man's acquired flashy ability caused him to ponder what that represented. A desire to destroy like his master? A desire to be noticed?

“Owen and Alex fulfilled their end,” Patterson informed, holding his cell phone up briefly. “To the house we go.”

He folded his hands into his lap, intent to hide his eagerness. The anticipation was killing him. He could barely contain how pleased he was to be reunited. The situation would be explained and he'd understand. He'd see how powerful they could be together. This powerful company was theirs. They were owed it.

When they arrived, his eyes went to the watch on his wrist. He was quickly distracted seeing a man burst out of the house. Danny Rand. Well, well. His little would-be backstabbing girlfriend trailed after him.

Patterson and Marks got out to greet them politely. Their lack of violence befuddled the pair, who halted mere feet away, staring cautious and angry. Harold opened the car door and stepped outside.

The streetlights allowed his vision to be fairly accurate, and he noticed his son standing in the darkened doorway of the home.

“I'll be right with you, son!” he assured, smiling.

His smile faltered when Ward flinched, taking a step back into the house. Away from him. Unacceptable. Such an ungrateful boy. He'd need to teach him words and actions had consequences. He deserved respect.

It was the middle of the night. Someone must have sent word about the fires in the apartment buildings of three of their friends. Did they know they were coming here or only suspected?

Marks was enthusiastic for a fight. She shifted into a fighting stance, eying the sword-wielding one. The woman gave a small half-smile in return, fully prepared to engage her if she insisted. Violent creatures.

“We've come for Ward,” revealed Patterson. “We'll kill any who interfere.”

“Oh hell no you don't.”

Harold pressed his backside into the car, surprised at the sudden appearance of the man stomping toward Marks. She was equally caught off guard but seemed to welcome the change in opponent, switching her attentions to the man crossing the street. Frank Castle, the Punisher, and mentally unfit soldier all rolled into one cracked shell.

He was distracted from their impending collision by the seething expression Danny was giving him. Patterson moved ahead, lifting a hand and curling it into flame. Shocked, the younger man backed up uncertainly.

Patterson remained smug as ever. “Come on. Show me yours.”

Ninjas peeled out of the shadows, charging for the house. The girlfriend ran forward to take them on. They were so easily distracted. He kept his smile measured and observed the fighting calmly.

Marks threw the big-framed Punisher several yards, sending him crashing heavily onto a different parked car. The alarm went off, persistent and irritating. No one came looking, either out of lack of concern or because of the street fight happening. The thrown man looked confused as to how she'd managed to lift and toss him like he was light as a feather. Super strength and a high tolerance for damage could do that for someone.

He watched her snap a previously dislocated limb back into place as though it was a mere nuisance. Ouch. She would be feeling it later. For the time being, she was looking to murder the interfering mass-murderer. Who would miss him anyway?

Danny was having trouble with his own opponent. The man's hands and arms were flame, making it impossible to close the difference very easily. It was amusing the man dressed in business attire barely had to attack physically in turn. Tossing burning fire in his enemy's direction proved sufficient in waylaying him. Harold sought out his son.

Ward noticed as soon as he was looked at, and had the balls to tighten his fists. He was curious to see him get into a fighting stance. Would he really take him on?

He closed the distance, moving around the constantly changing positions of Patterson and Rand. It didn't escape his eye that the former was merely toying with the latter. Why? Kill these undesirables already and be finished with it.

“I don't want to fight, Ward,” he said. “Come along with me. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you.”

His eyes narrowed, hostility all-consuming. “You hurt me. I do get it though. While Mom was alive, I was developing into my own person, despite your best efforts to keep me a blank slate for you to imprint on. When she died, you tried to erase me and put you there instead. Your idea of legacy was to perpetuate yourself. You wanted to live forever before you ever found a way to do it.”

He moved closer, nearly to him. “Ward.”

“But I was still there then, and I'm here now.”

Ward swung a fist at him. A pretty solid punch. He managed to sidestep it and regarded him with honesty.

“I'm proud of you. You've survived so much. You're stronger than I thought possible.”

The kick hit him in the side and he buckled, sliding out of his range. Kuo mentioned training his son to be able to hold his own versus an average enemy, but he was stunned to see it in use. When it came to him, there was typically too much emotion and silly attitude. Ward had always lacked focus.

“That's not what I wish for most, Ward, not living forever,” he confessed, monitoring for any sign of deference. “It's keeping my family with me. It's having the power to make them listen to me, even when they're too stubborn to. I look out for you. I know what's best. That's my role as father.”

A bloody and messy Castle got in his way. “Do you have any idea what you ruined? You had two beautiful children.”

He toppled to the ground as a result of a powerful shove. Sighing impatiently, he climbed to his feet, wiping at the grass on his clothing. Where did he find these obnoxious and extraneous people?

“I raised my son. Invested my life into him. He's going to live on and one day be a great man because of me.”

Castle fixed a menacing look onto him. “He's already a great man, and it's in spite of you.”

Harold tried to slug him across the jaw and his arm was caught in a brutal grasp, painfully squeezed. He refused to show his pain and let him hold the limb, meeting his steely and threatening gaze.

“There are no half-measures. You do it or you don't,” the man went on. “And you didn't. You're supposed to raise your children. Raise them up to be okay in this world. You crushed your child.”

“You want to kill me, don't you?” he asked.

The infamous Punisher didn't hesitate. “Oh yeah.”

He focused and reached into the other man's mind. “Kill yourself.”

Castle took a knife off his belt and stabbed it into his stomach noiselessly. He appeared surprised right before collapsing to the ground. Harold stepped over the man bleeding out, disgusted. His eyes slid to Ward.

Anguish. Hurt and afraid for this trash. He eyed the gun brought level to his face.

Sad eyes studied his boy. He would prefer to avoid using his ability on his son. Harold peered down at his watch, then back up to a steady hand. Ward would shoot him. In the past, he did it to defend Danny Rand. He stabbed him in a misguided attempt to gain freedom, too.

“Who will care about me if you don't?” he asked. “Son, I love you.”

“Touching Ward again,” the young woman declared. “That would be a mistake.”

He narrowed his eyes at the interfering child with her sword raised. She knew nothing about anything.

“Bushido code is mercy,” she said. “But that has limits.”

Harold grinned. “Oh? Are you here to kill me?”

“Isn't there a suicide ritual with samurai? Why don't you kill yourse-”

“Dad! Stop!”

The woman went still, halfway in the process of turning her sword to aim at herself. Her eyes bulged, aware of what she'd been about to do and helpless to keep it from happening. He only had to say the word.

“Oh? But I'm having fun.”

Patterson let out a shout as he received a kick in the chest. His back slammed into the side of their car and he crumpled, no fire to be seen. He really didn't think the man capable of keeping Rand busy as long as he had. Amazing.

Two of the ninjas were stepping closer. Ms. Marks was dragging herself onto her feet, a bloody catastrophe of broken bone and glass embedded in skin. He glanced downward at Castle to kick the soon to be corpse.

There was danger of pushing Ward away further. But collecting his son was one part of their task. If he hoped to live past tonight by Kuo's blessing, he'd have to complete the other job.

He reached into the girl's mind. “Kill Danny and then kill yourself.”

“No!”

Ward pulled the trigger and a bullet tore through his arm. He'd happened to turn toward Rand at just the right moment or he would have been struck center mass. Angrily, he growled to drop the gun, pushing into his mind without a second thought.

Storming up to his child in a rage, he backhanded him across the face. Ward's head slammed into the doorframe with a resounding smack, which didn't sound good. He yanked him to sit upright by the arm, examining his disoriented appearance. A huge bruise was already forming along the left side of his face. Oops.

“Enough!” Patterson yelled, annoyed.

“Help Mikka,” he said, and the ninjas hurried to assist holding her upright.

Harold surveyed him taking command, the man striding close to look directly in his eyes. “You're driving. Get in the car.”

“I don't work for you,” he began, disliking his superior acting.

An unfriendly gaze fell upon him. “No, you work for my master so long as you wish to prolong your life.”

His eyes flickered briefly over the brawl going on behind them. Rand managed to disarm her and was pathetically attempting to talk her down. The woman recovered her sword and went for his throat, nearly growling in the urgency she was feeling to obey the command he planted in her mind.

He decided then and there he would have to be rid of Patterson sooner rather than later. Harold watched him go to Ward and lift him onto his feet. His hand dug into pockets of sweatpants and his unzipped sweatshirt, searching until he removed a cell phone. Glancing at the screen, he fiddled with the device momentarily before letting it drop to the floor of the house.

Leaning close to the boy, one hand rested on his back and the other on his chest. Flames had burned away the sleeves of his clothing on either arm. He told him it would be okay quietly. A see-through lie. What was the point of that?

It was tempting to make use of his ability right then and there, but knew it likely at least one of the others would escape before he could kill them. His son was with him again. Once rid of the rest of these barriers to glory, including Kuo Abt, they would live as a family and run the company together.

His son tried to call out to Danny and the British man shushed him. Taking his arm, he pulled Ward past Harold. Marks was already in the front passenger seat, slumped against the door. She was looking the worse for wear. The Punisher lived up to his reputation as a tough son of a bitch. Too bad he was dead. So sad.

“Hmph,” he let slip out, expressing his relative contentment, all things taken into account.

“Please,” Ward tried. “Marcus.”

Rand was fighting to hold the small woman to the ground while she was virtually rabid. Kicking and thrashing, she was wild and desperate to murder him. He'd like to stay and watch the show, but regrettably, they had somewhere else to be. He walked around to the driver's side, opening the door.

“Get in, Ward,” the man responded to his plea, and as an afterthought, added, “Please.”

Harold eyed them over the roof of the car. The worried stare left his friends to peer back at him. That's it. Look to your father, he thought, satisfied. The young man was probably wondering if he would use his power on him a second time. He didn't intend to unless the boy proved difficult. His son would see the big picture. He would.

He got into the car and Patterson followed him in. Climbing behind the wheel, Marks muttered she would give directions. Did her dose wear off this soon? His eyes went to his watch.

/

Claire put her back to the hospital beds where Colleen and Frank were lying unconscious. The latter was in especially bad shape, having not yet fully healed from the previous time he was hospitalized. Colleen suffered mostly superficial scratches and a solid bump on the head. He did everything he could not to hurt her much. Hurting her as much as he had was regrettable.

“Okay, we discuss it.”

“Yeah we do,” concluded Jessica with finality. “Mind control power is too dangerous to let lie.”

He sighed, tired and fed up. Harold was a menace and wouldn't stop until someone stopped him. A life imprisonment sounded like pretty good punishment for his crimes. However, he knew no matter what it did to his soul, if Ward asked him to or if that monster laid a finger on him…

“I don't care whether it's a trap or not. Let's go. We're losing time he might not have.”

“Harold won't kill him,” said Matt.

His hands tightened into fists, eyes burning into his girlfriend's still face.

“That's not what I'm worried about.”

Silence. They knew what he meant. Claire was the first to share her opinion.

“I heal people for a living. Killing is wrong no matter who pulls the trigger.”

“Value in every life? Not him.”

“Colleen!” he exclaimed, gripping her hand. “I'm so sorry.”

She blinked slowly up at him, tired and worn. “Not your fault. You people are talking about killing Harold, yeah? I vote yes.”

“I don't know if we should take her vote,” said Matt, turning to address her. “After what you've just been through, your state of mind…”

“A knock on the head and some BS mind control that made me try to kill my boyfriend? I'm upset, sure. But I'm not confused or being impulsive.”

Danny glanced around the room. “I'd rather we avoid killing if it's possible. I will accept responsibility if it comes to that though.”

Matt shook his head, looking disappointed. “I'm against. Killing is never the answer.”

Luke and Jessica were nodding their heads identically, and both offered opposite opinion.

“No.”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other and near simultaneously uttered, “Really?”

“Okay, fine. Maybe.”

No one seemed certain of what the private investigator's correction meant. Her initial answer was a firm “yes”. Now she was reconsidering because of a mere look from Luke. He studied the pair of them briefly.

“So that's no, yes, only as last resort, no, no, and yes. Or..well, maybe.” Danny sorted. “Take out the maybes and we have three nos and one yes.”

His girlfriend was irate, fuming and struggling to come to terms with their non-violent decision. She usually could listen to reason and certainly understood the weight of taking a life. Maybe he could get where she was coming from somewhat. Harold hurt them repeatedly and slipped away without permanent punishment each occasion. They continued to fail protecting Ward or defeating Bakuto.

“Go get Ward, Danny,” ordered Colleen, sounding fed up and tired.

She closed her eyes to rest.


	28. Chapter 27: Achieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late publishing. Here are two chapters instead of one. I moved this weekend and had plenty to worry about aside from this. I'm sorry!

_**“I became obsessed, learning all that I could about the Iron Fist, what it was capable of, what it could achieve.”** _   
_**-Bakuto** _

Marcus was systematically lighting his fingers on fire, one at a time. He engulfed the hand in flame and blew it out. Then, looking downward at his bare chest, Ward could practically see the debate in his head on whether it would be okay to try making his entire upper body flare up.

Deciding the attempt unwise, his fascination switched focus to him. Stood flat against the wall as he was, he met the gaze unflinchingly, stepping away from a coward's placement. They were alone in a small motel room with a bed, yet somehow there was no fear of assault.

Perhaps speaking too soon, he caught the shine in his eye caused whenever feeling particularly absorbed with him. Ward didn't get it. He couldn't tell if the man behaved this way to put him off balance or just to be obnoxious. Maybe he was bored.

He sauntered closer, looking into his eyes the whole time. Marcus's eyes were a particularly light hue today.

“Ward.”

His gaze flickered across the pale chest, noting despite his thin frame, he had a solidly sculpted body. He glanced around in discomfort, forcing his arms to stay pressed to his sides. Harold was in the room next door, waiting for his interrogation to end so he could have a “stern talk” with his son.

But he hadn't been asked any questions. For nearly an hour he'd stood flat to the wall, expecting torture or Kuo or something else terrible. He'd stood rigid while Marcus sat on the motel room table, naked from the waist up and playing with fire. His suit jacket and shirt were ruined when he lit his arms on fire during the fight with Danny.

He believed Danny and Colleen were okay. He had to believe that. As for Frank… That man never should have involved himself in his messed up life. Ward wished he was able to make people go away, for their own protection. He wanted to survive to be some kind of force for good in the big, crappy universe, and meanwhile, people were dying for him. That was not the plan.

Stopping inches in front of him, hands reached forward to trifle with his sweatshirt. Fingers ran along the edges of the open zipper, sliding upward to adjust the hood. Arms resting on Ward's stiff shoulders to do that, Marcus leaned in and put his forehead lightly to his own.

“I've decided to achieve something improbable.”

Ward pulled away, stepping back to give himself space, and the other man followed. He put his hands inside the sweatshirt and worked to ease it off him. What was he doing? He'd risk it with Harold so close?

It proved to be a harmless action, however, and Marcus started putting the sweatshirt on. He let the air whoosh out of his lungs, relaxing. Ward watched him draw the zipper up about halfway before lifting his gaze from the task to his face.

Marcus patted the front of his dark blue t-shirt and squeezed his shoulder in reassuring fashion. He turned to plop down on the bed a couple feet away. His similarly colored sweatshirt looked good on him in contrast with the vivid hair.

“Your friends aren't very bright.”

He stared. “What?”

The topic changed. “Kuo says according to his research, the elixir of the special egg gives a specific ability to a person. It would seem during the enormously painful assimilation, it somehow deems your worth and grants ability in the personal.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“Your deepest wish, greatest hope.”

“Where's the science in that?” he asked, straining not to roll his eyes. “A liquid can read our minds? I don't think so.”

“It does seem unlikely,” the man admitted, glancing down at one of his hands.

They both of them stared at the flame that rose above the palm. Neither had to say it aloud, their expressions saying it all. A person couldn't conjure fire at will or remain without burns.

“I'm to learn what ability the elixir gave to you. Kuo wants an estimation of the duration it lasted.”

He continued to stare into the impossible fire, fixed on its existence. His mind did stray in response to the information sought though, to earlier in the night. The cuts on his arm vanished sometime in between the impromptu motel visit outside New York and return to his home. He'd pulled a sweatshirt on in case Danny noticed when he came to stay with him.

The flame extinguished as he closed the hand. He met an expectant stare.

“Maybe it was matching your hair.”

He laughed. “How banal. But then, I am curious what yours would mean.”

Ward blinked. The way it was phrased made it sound like he already knew what the ability was. He supposed it wouldn't be too unbelievable to have guessed his survival in Australia hinged on a healing power. But no, the manner in which he was being scrutinized led him to believe he'd given the answer by accident.

Standing, he approached leisurely. He eyed the potential threat with caution. Marcus cupped him beneath the chin to tilt his head to the side. The other hand's fingers traced the left side of his face.

“Remarkable. You can hardly see bruising.”

“What?”

His hand sprang up to feel for himself and the other man lowered his hand away. He turned toward the mirror on the opposite wall, walking close to get a better look. An hour ago the left side of his face was one massive bruise, a throbbing and irritating thing. He wasn't even sure when he stopped feeling the sensation of the fresh injury, but he couldn't feel anything now.

“Oh no…”

Responding to his murmured horror, Marcus presumed, “This isn't the first you've noticed healing.”

“No,” he acknowledged, unable to lie to convince himself he was normal anymore. “I died in Australia, or just about did. I'm a little fuzzy on what actually happened. I woke up and I wasn't in pain. There weren't any of my old scars either. It was like I had new skin or something. That's how smooth it felt.”

He was changed. He didn't want to be. Different like this was bad. When did life get better and stay better for people who weren't normal? The same could be said for anyone or anything, his rationality reminded him.

“Tonight, or…” He noticed the faintest trail of light leaking in through the window shades. “Last night, I saw a few cuts I'd gotten disappeared. Gone just like that.”

Ward began to feel hopeful. It would still be temporary like everybody else, right? Some had it a few days, others a few hours. Maybe because he'd been injected with numerous doses, his power was lasting a while. It would go away eventually and he'd be normal again.

He felt a calm determination to hang onto the belief. There was every chance this was exactly the situation. This made him pay attention to who he was with and that problematic situation of being taken from his home.

What was he doing talking to the enemy? He was a moron. The other managed to make talking to him feel easy and comfortable and he'd fallen for it, spitting his thoughts out like a fool. Marcus was a sadist and servant of Kuo. How could he forget?

“Forget it,” he demanded, harsh and on guard. “Why did you bring me here? What do you people want?”

A knock at the door. Ward's instinct to brace for whatever was to come faltered when he noticed Marcus react like that also. The man's soft expression shifted into a stony and discontented look.

“That would be Harold,” he told him quietly.

Raising the volume of his voice, he called out, “Do come in, Harold. Your son is all yours.”

Alarmed, he tried to remind his escalating fear that he knew this moment was coming. It was always going to be coming. He monitored his breathing, fighting to resume regular breaths.

Harold entered the room, seeking him immediately, though when he spoke it was to Marcus.

“Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He turned to the man when he didn't remove himself from the bed or the room. “Do you have to stay?”

“I do.”

Surprisingly this settled his nerves. Marcus staying meant his dad wouldn't hurt him badly. He wouldn't go too far with someone right there monitoring them. They hadn't allowed it in their presence since the first day, so his chances were good. He hoped.

His father's attitude soured in an instant. However, he chose to ignore the man who wouldn't budge. Ward stood ramrod straight as he crossed the room toward him. He'd be planning something to be rid of anyone posing a threat to the recovery of Rand Enterprises and power. If he couldn't count on his son, would that eventually include him?

“Don't interfere,” he said to the unwanted company.

“Don't rape,” Marcus casually replied.

If looks could kill...

Oddly, he found the comment gave him courage to speak his mind, blunt and honest.

“Sick fuck.”

Right back at him, Harold said, “Ineffectual coward.”

He moved forward, closing the distance. He wouldn't be afraid anymore. There would be no waiting around for something terrible to happen because of this man.

His father got a look in his eye like some kind of muted respect. “We can work together, Ward. We have to show Joy there's family to return to. Find fruit in failure like I've always said.”

“A different day, everything the same,” Ward recited, recalling his adopted motto for when life was a daily hell. Now, he twisted the attitude of it to be accusing.

“Oh, shut up,” Harold uttered, paper-thin patience run out. “Do you want to know why I am always so disappointed in you? You refuse to learn and do as you are told. You won't listen.”

Ward made eye contact, much as he hated doing it. He'd been thinking about the three decades of his life a lot lately. He didn't know what was going to happen today or tomorrow, but he would explain to his father how he felt his entire lifetime. Never once did he ever really try to make him understand him, knowing his words fell on disinterested ears.

“Since I can remember, you were busy with work, busy with making a name for yourself. Even when Mom got sick… Well anyway, I was a miserable kid because of you but you know, I think it would have been alright eventually. I had Joy, and I believed when you were diagnosed, that was my sign it would be okay. I wouldn't have to live a life that was someone else's. That was why the day you died of cancer was the happiest I'd ever been, awful as it sounds.”

It was the closest he would ever give this man an apology for feeling that way. Harold knew it too, his face mostly blank but eyes flooding with rage. Treading a fragile line, he happily spilled right over it to speak freely. Telling him his genuine thoughts and opinions was what he despised hearing from him.

“For a long time I told myself you were only a bad dad because you were trying to make me successful. You know, you really were trying to help me succeed in life like parents do for their children.”

The thought occurred Harold might have his mind control power yet. He would have used it if he did. He hadn't, therefore it must be gone. What if it wasn't? Temporary hesitation did not assuage his determination to what he had to say.

“But when you came back from the dead, you tried to break me so you could mold me into your image. Because of that, I'm certain I'll never have to be afraid of being like you.” Ward paused the briefest of moments to make his finish abundantly clear. “See, I hate you.”

Somehow the blow managed to hit him in the side despite his preparedness. He buckled and reached forward to grip both wrists attempting to grab. Harold pulled his arms away, capable because of his momentary need to recover from the pain he was feeling in his side.

“Ungrateful little shit!”

The fist hit him on the jaw full force and he fell backward, dropping to the floor. Angry more than he was hurting, he jabbed his foot forward, sock covered foot still proving forceful enough to break his stability. When Harold dropped onto one knee after losing his balance, Ward surged off the ground, barreling into the other man.

This brought them both to the ground and he pressed a forearm against his throat. He wasn't taking chances the power to control minds was still in him. Of course, this was assuming he required verbal speech to force obedience. It was likely he would have used the ability by now if he had it, but then, Marcus had his fire, and Harold might be waiting to use it.

Staring down at his father failing to try and get up, he asked what was on his mind.

“How many people have you killed, Dad?”

Unable to speak with his arm pressing into his neck, he stared at him. But Ward didn't have to hear his answer. He knew the answer was too many. He'd caused the deaths of his supposed best friend, their family, before he ever could have reasoned it was the substance that brought him to life again that was to blame. God only knew how many people died by his hand afterward. Poor Kyle...

The disappointment was in his eyes, mixed with the rage and desire for violence. Why did he never truly please his father? Why did he have to care?

He let him go, standing up. Punching and kicking and causing pain was Harold's thing. He wouldn't behave like his father.

Ward glanced at Marcus, continuing to sit precisely where he'd been. He appeared relaxed and unworried. An act? Or was he simply that unbothered by the family feud?

The frame of the motel door splintered apart in a shower of wood pieces as the door was kicked inward. He stared straight ahead, shocked at the unexpected arrival. How did he find him?

“Danny?”

Harold rolled onto his stomach, twisting around to face the doorway. “Don't move!”

Distress flooded him when Danny listened, seemingly freezing in place. The mind power was still there. How did they fight that? He couldn't control if he was unconscious...

His father surprised him by sweeping his legs across, knocking him off his feet. He tumbled to the floor and scrambled to quickly stand again, putting distance between them. Assuming the combat position Owen taught him, he searched for an opening to attack. It would all be pointless if Harold used his ability to stop him.

Marcus got to his feet and walked over, watching Harold get up to confront the man here to ruin his day. He had to stand by and see Luke kept rooted to the ground just behind Danny's shoulder. Were any of the other Defenders here too? Would this be how they died, unable to fight back?

“Ward.”

He barely paid the man any attention. His sole focus was on willing the two men in danger to move despite the command. They couldn't. But Jessica could. She squeezed past them, eyes dead set on Harold. His order for her to stop went unheeded.

They fought. He watched their super strength clash and it became quickly clear she was stronger than him. The hope renewed. For some reason he couldn't control her mind and she had more strength. She would win.

“Your friends are wasting time they don't have,” Marcus told him. “Kill Harold and leave. You have somewhere else you all need to be.”

What did he mean? He briefly glanced his way, curious, but concern for his friends overrode it. Jessica was doing good, but Harold didn't seem to feel her blows much and she did feel his plenty. Years working with a trainer were what allowed his dad to avoid being beaten fast. She fought how she wanted and he used his taught skills to gain the upper hand, delivering effective damage.

If he wasn't here this wouldn't be happening. No, he had to go and get himself kidnapped again like the ultimate useless burden. He wished he was still home. If he was still home none of this would have happened.

“Ward?” said Marcus, hand resting on his arm.

His head was starting to pound and his stomach felt weird.

He staggered to a halt, Marcus alongside him. Breathing heavily, he studied his surroundings, bewildered and terrified. It felt like his gut had been twisted up and squeezed, then like an intense case of vertigo had ripped him from the ground and thrown him. He thought he was going to be sick.

“How did you do that?”

Ward turned his shocked expression onto him before realizing he didn't think it anymore. He was going to be physically sick. He scrambled for the trash bin he knew wasn't far and barely made it, heaving up unpleasant tasting air and spit.

Wiping saliva from his chin, he shifted around to sit there on the floor. His mind was numb, unable to comprehend the present or that he was impossibly sitting on the floor of his home. He was in the motel and now he was home. He appeared in the blink of an eye. That didn't happen.

Marcus sat on the floor beside him, looking shaken. “Ward, you brought us here. How?”

“I don't know,” he uttered. “I didn't mean to. It just happened.”

“How?”

“I...” He remembered his thoughts right before they appeared in his house. “I wished I was home.”

The man smiled, intrigued and amused. “You can make yourself travel where you want with a thought. Wow. Looks like Kuo's experiment wasn't a failure after all.”

“It will go away,” he insisted, turning his eyes to the other man. “It's temporary. That's how the fluid works. It goes away.”

Shrugging, he went on smiling and said, “Maybe.”

Marcus stood, extending a hand to help him up. He was hesitant to accept his help. A man who tortured him for his boss, who kept him prisoner, harassed him at work, and kidnapped him. Finally he decided it was a simple offer to get him off the ground, not a peace treaty.

He accepted the hand and was pulled onto his feet. “I concluded I've grown to care for you, Ward.”

Conscious the man was yet gripping his hand, he started to pull it free, uncertain what he was up to.

“Rand funds were used for Obaktu Enterprises to manufacture the drug that will sicken and kill a whole lot of people. Owen's been on a mission leaving your name across the city to expose where the drug is being made and where it is being sold. As street drugs, as medicine on shelves in stores, it's everywhere by now. Better move fast.”

“What about your own mission? What about your new world?”

“I found it sensible to rethink things.”

Rethink? Like he'd insisted him to do for his leader so many times before? What was he thinking? What trap was this now?

“Consider this trying to give you a reason to feel something other than hate.”

Marcus kissed him on the lips, a soft, brief touch, Ward's eyes shutting in response to the sudden closeness. When he withdrew, his eyes opened and he found the other man gazing into them. Completely surprised by the unexpected display of affection, he could only stare. He felt vulnerable, the possibility for being tricked potent. Ward didn't trust this man one bit.

“I don't understand you,” he managed, following the long bout of quiet.

“You might better than you think,” he replied, a small smile reaching his eyes.

“I suggest you call Sandi Ann. Our chemist department will be hard at work. Your advice that it was originating from a man and the sample of his blood provided, should be infinitely useful for the growing epidemic.”

“ _Our_ department?” he uttered. “I didn't provide a blood sample. What are you talking about?”

“I did. Said it was from you.”

Why hadn't he gotten rid of this guy from the company if he truly wasn't afraid of these people anymore? Kuo's servant dared show his face at Rand Enterprises because of blackmail. However, he wasn't letting Heart use Rand any longer. They were infecting all of New York with a deadly contagion. There was no pretending and playing nice. It was time to discover their operations and shut them down.

Marcus was walking away, heading for the front door. He was wearing his sweatshirt and not making sense and being a nuisance. Initially sputtering a response that never quite formed, he changed his mind and became indignant to be at such a loss.

“You're fired!” he called after him.


	29. Chapter 28: What to Do

_**“Keep telling me what to do...”** _   
_**-Ward Meachum** _

Rising out of the squat, he turned to face the woman leading the others. Joy Meachum no longer with them, that left three individuals in need of protection, and two of them were because of him. They were searching for him to look at them, wanting answers.

“How can you be sure?” the detective asked, soon as her feet brought her within the range she perceived he required to hear speech.

He glanced to the street below. These people lost their homes in fires barely a half hour ago. They thought it meant Heart believed they were inside and were making an attempt on their lives, or at least an attempt to distract the Defenders. Matt suspected it meant the latter. Done so they could attack the people they cared about left vulnerable while they rushed off for retaliation.

“Harold came for Ward. Heart soldiers were with him.”

Karen stepped closer, voice worried. “They didn't get him, right?”

His gaze lowered to the ground. “They did.”

“Again?” Foggy exclaimed, rightfully exasperated.

“Danny and Colleen were there. They tried to stop them. Colleen's hurt, but nothing too serious. Some of them had power they didn't have before. Fire, strength..and mind control.”

Horrified, Karen said, “Tell me it's not Harold.”

“Yeah. He has the mind control.”

“What the hell?” uttered Foggy.

“Goddammit,” Karen swore.

The third individual hanging at the back of the group seemed to be growing increasingly concerned. “Where's Jessica? What's she making of all this?”

Matt shook his head once, turning around to face the street. “Someone put into Ward's phone the name of a motel and a room number. Left it where it would be found.”

“You should lead with that next time,” Foggy suggested.

He felt the corner of his mouth upturn in a miniscule smile. Yeah, probably should have.

“Who would do that?” Misty demanded. “And why?”

“Very soon we're going to need you in this fight with us, Ms. Knight.”

“About damn time.”

She rolled the artificial arm like she was preparing a weapon. It kind of was one. Matt understood why she would be eager to get closer to the action. Undoubtedly, there were thoughts of revenge and great anger for what Bakuto took from her.

“Matt, what can we do?” asked Karen.

Already knowing she would be dissatisfied with his response, he said it anyway, tacking on extra to try to make it go down easier.

“Stay alive. There's bound to be a ridiculous and intriguing story you'll gain out of all this.”

He watched two police cars pull to the curb in front of the safe house. Motioning for the woman to step up, Misty approached to stand beside him. She saw what he did.

“They're not my precinct. They shouldn't know the location.”

“Are these the dirty cops Jessica mentioned?” Malcolm questioned.

Glancing briefly toward the man, he spoke to the cop among them. “You must have trusted the wrong person.”

Karen looked instantly excited, hurrying over to peer down at the spot a block away. There were story possibilities churning in that head of hers. Now was ideal for him to share the information he'd kept out. It might dissuade any reckless pursuit of a headline.

“Frank was there too, Karen.”

Hearing the tone he used, the excitement was fading while she turned to him. A long moment of silence passed between them. Finally, she found the words she needed to say.

“Is it bad?”

“Yes.”

“Will he make it?”

“I don't know.”

His head perked up. There was movement crossing rooftops, swift and quiet. The Hand trained them that way. He examined those gathered.

“Misty, I'm leaving it to you to keep them safe.”

“We got company other than the cops?”

He motioned to the first Heart fighter leaping into sight, several rooftops away yet. She sighed, annoyed and tired. Matt felt similarly. He had about enough of secret ninjas too.

The detective's phone rang and she swore, trying to muffle the sound as quickly as possible. She was met with varied success. The corrupt police officers below heard nothing, but the ninjas were aware and reacting, speeding up and heading directly for them. Fortunately they didn't carry long range weapons.

A shot rang out. Matt ducked and shouted for everyone to get down. He risked peering over the roof siding and surveyed the four cops were searching upward at the building they were on. That had him immediately discovered. A second shot fired from the single officer with his gun raised upward. He was responsible for the first discharge as well.

“They must be communicating,” he observed out loud to the rest.

Misty frowned, monitoring the approaching threat with concern. “Is it a problem?”

He smiled. “No.”

/

Rising to his feet, he stared in disbelief.

“Ward?”

Claire, Luke, and Jessica gaped in equal surprise. Nobody expected to see Ward walking through the door of his own free will. Nor did they expect him to show up anywhere near Rand. He didn't look happy, but there was no visible sign of injury.

“Jesus…”

Continuing on with Claire's breathed out reaction, he asked, “Where were you? Did you go out a rear window or something?”

After Harold scurried away when Jessica started kicking his ass, they'd become free of his control over them. Danny assumed it had something to do with distance, but he couldn't say for sure. Luke went looking for Harold, and he noticed the room was otherwise empty.

The board members in the chemical department observing their primary chemist's work on a cure for the current sickness expanding throughout the city, looked less surprised and more relieved. They didn't know details concerning their CEO's troubles so it made sense. Donald and Maria were probably hoping he was there to bail them out and assure they didn't have to worry anymore. No such luck for them today.

“Marcus helped me.”

Jessica sank back into her chair. “He the one who put where you were going to be in your phone?”

“I guess.”

Ward was in a suit and tie. Because he was at Rand? A change into his own clothing meant he'd been home.

Bigger question. Why was he just noticing this? Danny scanned his face, searching for anything telling he could gather.

“Good morning, Sandi.”

The chemist blinked. “Good morning, Mr. Meachum.”

“Progress report?”

Her eyes grew big and she glanced about at all of them. “Not yet, sorry.”

“Why do you think this Patterson guy helped you?” Claire asked.

Ward shook his head, appearing uncertain. “I don't know and I don't trust him. It's likely all a trick to ultimately benefit Kuo in some way.”

“We'd have no idea where you were without his help though. Doesn't that seem strange?”

Danny thought about Claire's statement. “Unless Kuo didn't need Ward in his possession right now. Maybe we were told where he was to distract us, same as the fires set.”

“A lot of people did get sick seemingly overnight,” Claire shared. “They must have done something to spread it faster while all of us were worrying over our friends' safety.”

“A production factory going into operation can do that.” Ward removed the notepad tucked beneath his arm and held it out. “I've made a list of warehouse properties owned by Rand that could be used for such an operation. Marcus told me my name would identify the correct location.”

“We're taking the word of somebody we're not trusting?” Jessica inquired.

“You got a better idea?” Luke asked.

She shrugged. “Nope. Just checking that's what we're planning to do.”

He sighed. Teamwork was more aggravating than he would like at times. Especially with their ever expanding members of concern and egos. Danny suggested they use the list and get moving. He didn't want to spend all day searching locations for a factory that may or may not be uncovered.

Someone was waiting for them in the lobby.

“Colleen, what are you doing here?”

“I'm fine, Danny. Where we headed?” Her eyes caught sight of Ward just past his shoulder. “Oh.”

“Hi, Colleen.”

He studied the man for a moment. Was he okay? He seemed unusually less dour and cranky compared to the typical him. Danny would have guessed he'd be in a bad mood after being kidnapped yet another time. He didn't seem all that bothered.

They went out onto the street and it didn't take long to realize they were being followed to the parking lot. Matt appeared in full Daredevil attire, looking both ways before he did so. It was still early enough to leave the streets emptier than they would be in a few hours.

Half hidden in the alley behind him, he updated them on the move of their friends with the aid of Misty Knight. The safe house had been discovered by dirty police officers and a fight between them and ninjas occurred under the brightening morning light. In turn, Luke let him know what was up on their end.

He was listening when he took notice of something spray painted on a coffee shop window across the street. The store owner wouldn't be too pleased when they discovered the graffiti. Danny returned his attention to his friends but then immediately turned to give the mark a second look.

His eyes continued to scan the buildings following the mark and spotted another one painted onto a brick apartment building. The symbol was an almost complete box with the line for the right side missing, a curvy X shape inside. He knew its literal meaning and determined what it was being used for in this case.

“Danny, what's up?” Colleen questioned.

“The symbol over there,” he pointed out. “It's a Chinese character.”

“Oh you're right,” she agreed, studying the spray paint work. Her gaze shifted to Ward.

Danny looked at him too. “Your name will hopefully lead us to the factory. We just follow the trail.”

The others crossed the street with him, and he stopped before the graffiti symbol.

“This character represents division of a large city.”

“Also called a ward,” Colleen finished.

Comprehension dawned on him and the rest. A unique method to get their attention. On his own, Ward never would have noticed or been able to read the marking. Patterson must have assumed he would find Danny and they would go looking for the location together. But was it help?

They followed the repeated marking, going to get their answer the old fashioned manner. Eventually, it led them to an address not on the list. It could be a trap like Ward believed it was. But they'd arrived in force and were prepared to confront any opposition.

Inside, the warehouse was set up into an operating factory. That much was evident. There were barrels and conveyer belts and machines. The equipment was running and he didn't quite know how it worked, but he knew enough to be suspicious. The unidentifiable liquid in the small bottles was a clear, amber-brownish color, rows of them passing along on one of the belts.

“These are the guys!” Jessica declared. “Cartel assisting the ninja clan or whatever.”

Two men stepped out among the crowd of gathering cartel members entering through a wide doorway from an adjacent room. The one on the right was older, relaxed and exuding danger without ever speaking or doing anything to make someone feel threatened. He had to be the crime lord, Taylor Manden. Danny read his file. He favored beheading people.

On his left was a younger man matching the picture from his own file. Nick Gomez, loyal lieutenant of their criminal enterprise. He and his boss's drug cartel had been an issue for the city a long time. They'd just never done the type of thing to warrant extracurricular attention on his behalf.

“Someone's been talking,” Manden said. “It's the only way you could have found this palace.”

“Nobody's been talking,” Danny told him honestly. Spray paint was a hundred percent non-verbal.

“Kill you later, kill you now,” the crime lord announced in a loud voice. “Makes no difference to me.”

He spat something in Spanish and they were backing into their goons while they surged forward. It must have been to incite them with a kill order. Not the most inviting of people, were they?

“Danny.”

Detecting the worry in his voice, he glanced at Ward, unwilling to blind himself to the approaching criminals for too long. The man didn't have to say anything. He quickly followed his line of sight to a balcony a fair distance away. There was a ninja standing above, observing everything. Harold stood a few yards from him, doing the same thing.

His attention was ripped back to the enemies almost upon them when the first of them displayed an ability. The man flew up into the air and came swooping downward, knife in hand. Another swept a row of boxes down by gesturing an arm through the air, the heavy crates crushing Luke onto the ground. Luckily he could take it.

Becoming angry, he focused inward, accumulating the power into his fist. Heart allowed them to use fluid from the Egg. They had no claim to this power. He would take it back if he had to knock it out of them.

He raced into the fight, noticing although they were carrying guns, they weren't pulling them out to shoot.

Alarmed rapid-fire shouting in Spanish by Manden when one of them jostled a machine he'd been pushed into by Colleen, suggested they weren't risking bullets messing up production. Danny swept an elbow back into a knife-wielding assailant that tried to come up behind him. He barely paid attention to the guy.

“Stay with me,” he ordered Ward, and received no complaint.

His eyes surveyed the scene before him briefly. Matt and Claire were on the opposite side of the large, open area. Her combat skills were minimal, however, she knew enough to put up a fair fight and Daredevil as backup kept her protected. In the meantime, Luke and Jessica formed a tag team of their own, making the thugs wish they'd never gotten this job detail.

Danny sought out Colleen again to find she was all right, then searched out the powered members scattered among the non-powered. He'd do his best to target them. A particularly idiotic goon tried to thrust his knife at Ward when he was standing right next to him.

He snapped the man's wrist and then his arm for good measure, kicking him in the stomach. Turning away, he engaged another two and Ward was standing up, clutching the inside of his suit jacket when he turned back. A quick check told him the man wasn't hurt.

Three cartel members reached them and spread out. A fourth joined, the lieutenant, Gomez, sparking electricity out of his fingertips. It soon became clear the others had powers of their own as well.

Beginning the fight, one of them stretched his arm impossibly long to smack into his face. He bore the hit and kept coming, hitting him hard enough to get him out of the way. His second combatant vanished right in front of his eyes and he warily stepped back. An invisible foot kicked him in the leg and it gave out. He stumbled and Ward charged forth, rushing the cartel member who was nearing to attack.

When his fist hit the man's chest, it sounded like it was hitting metal and Ward recoiled his hand. Laughing, the man stood still and let him take a free shot. Ward unwisely did, punching him across the jaw and ended up cradling his fist and backing away. The hard as metal enemy socked him in the stomach and Ward doubled over.

Gomez shot lightning out of a hand and Danny avoided the blast of electricity. Somersaulting forward, he fought the man with stretching ability, putting him down with finality before moving on to the invisible one who locked an arm around his neck. He couldn't see the arm but he sure felt it. The metal man removed a knife off his belt, walking up to stab him.

He jabbed his head backward but the man's head was far enough away to avoid such a move. So instead he waited for the guy with the knife to get close enough and then ran up his body, flipping over the man who'd had him by the neck. He spun and kicked the unseen attacker and he popped back into sight, having smashed his head into an apparent metal leg by accident.

Danny dodged an electric blast again, concentrating to power up his fist. He watched Ward looking at Gomez and could tell he was getting ideas on stepping in to help. He'd prefer not to have him in that kind of danger, even if he might be able to handle it.

A powerful hand gripped his sweatshirt. It really did feel like metal latching on. He grew smug and swung his fist about to straight punch him in the face. That did the trick, sending his heavy body flying across the room.

Flying… He eyed the man capable of flight breeze past, attacking Claire. She was bloody. He couldn't identify if it was a superficial or serious injury at this distance. All he knew was she was hurt. Renewed anger flooded his system and urgency to keep his friends safe filled him.

Ward was making his move on Gomez and a cartel member drew his gun to fire at him. Danny powered up, knowing it was too much, too soon and not caring. He slammed it into the ground, breaking up the floor in the radius surrounding him. Everybody nearby lost their footing and he hurried to stand Ward back on his feet.

The cartel leader was shouting in Spanish. He noticed the members were thinning out, either unconscious on the floor or simply gone. It appeared to be a retreat. Gomez dragged himself up off the ground, clutching a bleeding skull, and chose to run toward Manden, confirming that theory.

At a fair distance, someone began discharging a firearm.

He tracked the bark of the gun and cutting bullets, watching Matt spin flip through the air to avoid at least four rounds. Danny saw blood spurt out, possibly from two separate areas. Heightened senses had him searching the man as he landed on the ground, sweeping himself farther away to avoid getting hit again.

Grazes were what they were. One in the arm and the other in the thigh. A thin stream of blood trailed out of his outfit from the injuries, but he held himself straight and balanced, which boded well. His relief was short-lived as Harold came into view, gun to Colleen's head.

“You people have to die!” the irate man screamed.

He was seeking out his son. Danny moved slowly in his direction to close the distance, Ward at his heel. It didn't take long for him to locate who he sought.

Harold tried to appeal to him. “We can have our lives back, Ward. These people don't get how the world works, but I do.”

“All you care about is the stupid company,” said Ward, raising his voice to counter the distance. “Let her go!

“They have no idea what's coming! But I do,” insisted Harold. “Heart, Hand… They're a mere blip on the radar for what's really out there in the universe. If the Black Order is half as dangerous as they sound…”

What was he raving on about? Danny didn't understand a bit of what he was saying. Lies cooked up to confuse, throw them off their guard perhaps. He wouldn't trust anything coming from this monster.

“Look, you need to see the truth, son. This is the world now and we have to grab hold and refuse to let go. This is how it has to be!”

“Keep telling me what I have to do…”

Something inconceivable happened. One moment he was looking at Ward's infuriated face, and the next the man was across the room. There were what appeared to be particles of light dissipating in the air where he'd been standing. They reminded him of the energy gathered into his fist seconds before he wielded it as a weapon to smash the ground, exhausting his power at the same time.

Ward stood a foot in front of his father, and two quick steps brought him into a hug. No, not exactly. He'd come close to wrap an arm around his shoulder as though in an embrace, and used the other to jerk the arm holding the gun into the air.

Given the opportunity, Colleen scrambled backwards and lifted her sword off the ground. He studied her for a moment, trying to see whether she was hurt. Harold would have put a bullet in her head if Ward hadn't somehow done what he did. How could he disappear and reappear like that?

Harold pushed back, ripping his arm free and lowering the weapon to attempt to shoot Colleen again. Angry, Danny started forward but stopped almost as suddenly. The weapon had fallen out of his grasp when he was shoved into the wall behind him. Blood leaked past his lips. He was gasping in complete disbelief.

He shifted to the side to find how he was bleeding and saw what hurt him. Ward had slid a knife into his father's chest. It looked to be directly in the heart, or if not, extremely close. Where and when did he pick up the knife?

“I knew your heart had to be in there somewhere.”

Shock met Ward's determined stare. Danny drew near. His eyes caught that the others were waiting in different parts of the room, probably as surprised as the dying man seemed to be. They'd never quite decided on the whole killing thing. He was conflicted for the outcome. He regretted Ward ending up in this position.

“This is what they wanted you to do,” claimed Harold.

Blood leaked across his shirt, expanding from the chest wound. Ward took a step back when his father reached for him and the man sank to his knees. Confusion was mixing into the shock.

“I was protecting you.”

The man was met with an incredulous look. Leaning in, Ward told him sincerely, “But Harold, you never did.”

They were locked into a stare, and Danny wondered at the rather cold nature in which his friend was handling such an act. He didn't know if he would actually be able to kill a person, much as he sometimes felt like it. Killing someone well known, who was once family… That was a huge choice and Ward was calm.

Peering down at the expanding blood leaking out around the knife stuck in his chest, Harold lifted sad eyes upward to his son.

“Ward…?”

“Do you know why I really hate you? The real reason?” he asked him. “I do love you..and that's why I hate you. It's stupid. I hate you..because I love you, Dad.”

Harold's eyes slid closed and he fell over, unmoving. Blood continued to leak out. Ward's eyes were glued to the sight, unable to look away. Danny approached and gripped his arm.

“Goodbye, Dad,” he murmured.

There was no malice, only simple acceptance his father was dead. He sounded emotionally drained. They would have to be certain the correct body was destroyed this time. He wouldn't let Ward fall victim to the bastard ever again.

His gaze was drawn to Colleen as she approached. “Look away, Ward.”

He did, knowing the reason behind her request before Danny realized what she was going to do. When the blade came down on Harold's fallen form, separating head from body, he winced. She'd finished it. She made sure he could never hurt anyone anymore.

Danny imagined he would be conflicted, but he was relieved and proud of her. The man ended up granted more chances at life than most, and he'd squandered every last chance. He didn't feel doubt or concern they did the wrong thing. It was what was done to protect others. This was right and just.

“I had to do it,” said Ward.

Now that he was close and studying him, he could see there was expected emotion. He was hurting and grieving his dead father. Joy entered into his mind and he wondered if Ward was thinking of her too.

Using the hold on his arm, he tugged him into an embrace. “It's okay.”

“It's not,” the other insisted, trying to pull away. “Who kills their dad three times? Who watches their dad die four times? This is so screwed up.”

He held to Ward, firm. “It is okay.”

“There won't be a fifth time,” Colleen said. “This is it, Ward. He's really gone.”

She came forward to stand at his shoulder and Danny reluctantly let him go so he could look at her.

“You saved my life. Remember that.”

They surveyed the room, taking note the overlooking ninja had vanished and the remainder of the cartel fled or lay unconscious. The present danger was officially ended. It brought to mind how precisely Harold met his end.

He turned to his friends coming to join them. Colleen was examining Ward with some kind of look he couldn't decipher. Discarding the distraction from his head, he focused on the surprise.

“I think you'd better explain how you reached Harold like that.”

Ward found the ground real interesting.

“You know how I led you to believe Marcus Patterson got me out through the back window?” he began.

He would have to do a little explaining to make him forget he was less than truthful earlier that day. Danny wanted complete honesty between them. It was the least they could do for each other after everything they'd been put through because of Harold Meachum. He was gone for good now. Time to stop defining themselves by what was done to them by that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 区


	30. Chapter 29: Away From You

_**“I want you to leave me alone. I don't want any part of Rand or any of this insanity. I want my own life away from you.”** _   
_**-Ward Meachum** _

How did someone grieve a loss like this? Harold Meachum was a father and he was his son. Or did a person cease to be a son or daughter once their parents were gone from the world?

Harold was a man. He was a son once, abused by his father. He was a businessman. He had a wife and children. He had a best friend. He had a company. He lost his wife. He tried to keep his family with him. He abused his son, neglected his daughter. He took advantage of people. He used his friends, co-workers, and children to further his own wants. He wanted power. He lost his company. He lost the ability to control the people around him. He feared death. He feared a cage and the loss of his freedom and power. He was evil, and he wasn't.

Each of those statements were true. Each of them painted Harold as a human being. But Ward knew both the man and the monster within. He made the choice to kill the man in order to kill the monster. He made that choice. The consequences would be his to live with and the memories his to keep.

It was difficult to reconcile his own identity inside, compared to what was generally seen on the outside. He wasn't quite who he wanted to be. Every time he imagined himself stronger and self-assured, it felt like pretend. Did everyone know he was faking? Did they know he was 31 years old and had no idea what he was doing?

Ward shut off the television blaring the nightly news, people discussing the major warehouse fire that morning. They'd burned it all down, his father's body included. Cartel members left behind knocked out, were dragged outside before the place was drenched with flammable oil and set alight. Misty Knight arrived with back-up to arrest the criminals and “discover” the fire after an anonymous tip delivered the address of suspected criminal activity.

Enough distraction. Back to work. He closed his eyes, picturing himself standing in his office. Gravity evaporated around him and his gut wrenched like someone was grabbing and twisting his organs.

His eyes opened and he was staring at his desk and the large window beyond. He'd traveled back and forth between the office and home repeatedly. Ward thought maybe there was a limit to the power. In principle, once it was used up he would be normal again.

He checked the line of shallow cuts on his arm. Less than an hour and not a one of them remained. Fingers ran across smooth skin. Freaky.

He was curious how far the healing ability extended, but wasn't suicidal enough to do serious harm. There was no way to know if he could heal a gun or knife wound without experiencing it to try. He'd been shot. Didn't really want to intentionally repeat the experience. Besides, he was fairly certain if somebody got him in the heart or head or someplace lethal, he'd die. K'un-Lun didn't appear to actually deliver immortality unless one was using the black substance. And should he live, it would still hurt a lot. Pass.

Would he be able to travel someplace far away, like China or France? He tried to think of a specific landmark in China and came up empty. He'd never been there. The Eiffel Tower was extremely famous. He imagined himself standing in front of the tower, entire thing in full view.

Ward hadn't even shut his eyes before he began to feel the now familiar discomfort in his gut, the ground beneath ripping away. He appeared on a dock, stumbling when a little girl standing by a boat saw him pop out of nowhere and screamed. Gasping in just as much surprise, not realizing there was water by the Paris tower, he slipped on a wet surface.

His arms pinwheeled as he fell backward into the water with a splash. He rose to the surface, treading water and breathless. Shit. Fast as he could manage, a few people drawn to his sudden swim and the girl's scream, he pictured his living room.

Reappearing in the room he originally moved to his office from, he found himself standing practically nose to nose with a startled Luke Cage. He backed away apologizing, and stumbled into Claire, who steadied him. She looked amused.

“Having fun?”

“Why are you soaking wet?” asked Danny.

He spun around to see Danny looking cross. Matt was shutting his front door and Jessica was staring at him quizzically. He attempted to switch the topic.

“Is Frank going to live?”

“I knew we shouldn't leave you alone.”

“Where's Colleen?”

“She volunteered to check on hospital situations. Maybe the new safe house _is_ the best place for you.”

He wondered on the information concerning the man's girlfriend. Wouldn't Claire be better suited to make some calls? She probably had connections and knew people in the medical field currently dealing with the health crisis. What did he know? And a safe place? What a joke.

“If it's in this city, nowhere is a safe house.”

“What were you doing? Where did you go? Why are you wet?”

Ward shrugged. “Trying to use up my powers.”

“You should put dry clothes on.”

The soaking wet suit did feel dreadfully uncomfortable and weighted, sticking to his skin. Still, he was finished with babysitters. They ended up hurt and he was done hiding. He wanted them to figure out where Kuo was lurking and take the fight to him.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Danny grit his teeth, clearly growing frustrated and impatient with the dismissal. “Ward.”

“You said powers,” Jessica pointed out.

Playing dumb, he queried, “What?”

“Powers. With an 's', as in plural.”

“I meant power.”

He looked around. Nobody was buying it. Inhaling, he exhaled slowly and started for his bedroom.

“Well, I'm gonna take a shower and change.”

Predictably, Danny moved to block his exit. “I thought it was strange but forgot about it.”

His hand gestured toward the left side of his face. “Harold hit you before he made you go with them. You were blossoming a hell of a bruise all along your face. I don't see a bruise. There's nothing. It's not even been a day yet. You can heal.”

Shrugging, he turned toward his bedroom. “Maybe.”

“Why are you wet?” he asked again.

A sigh. “I miscalculated what the surrounding area of a place actually was and tripped, okay? Finished with your interrogation, inspector?”

When the man didn't budge, only giving him this solemn look he didn't care to puzzle out, he tried to step around. An arm extended to prevent his passage and he'd had enough. He disappeared and reappeared in his bedroom bathroom. Might as well make the ability useful for getting out of undesirable situations.

Tugging off his clothing quickly, he got into the shower and pretended there wouldn't be a pissed reception waiting for him when he finished. The warm stream of water was relaxing and he let it run down his body, clearing his mind of thoughts. His happy concentration was to stay alive and make something of himself for others. Simple enough. Difficult enough.

The worries started piling up, sneaking into his blank mind. Nope, he wouldn't feel bad for killing Harold. He wouldn't keep missing Joy like without her he was alone. He wouldn't believe they were in trouble and Kuo would kill him before this was all over.

Ward returned the soap to the shelf, deciding he couldn't justify a third application. The thing about avoidance was it always came back around to the very thing being avoided. Always.

Shutting off the water, he focused on even breaths for a few seconds and then made himself step out. His gaze rising from the bathmat to the towel rack, his eyes instead zeroed in on the man leaning against the shut door.

“Holy shit, Danny! Boundaries!”

He caught the towel tossed at him, the other man staring slightly above his shoulder to keep his gaze off the nudity. If he didn't want to see nudity, it was easy as not coming into a bathroom where another man was showering. The guy had no common sense sometimes.

“I think Colleen wants to end our relationship.”

What? That admission came out of nowhere. Why was he telling him this?

The towel was still held awkwardly in his hands. He glanced at Danny staring past him and shrugged inwardly. Drying his body and wishing he did not have company for the task, he settled on doing it in haste.

As soon as he was dry enough, he wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked it secure. He'd have to go into his bedroom to change. For now, this was as covered as he was getting.

“Colleen seems to care about you. You're probably just letting the present situation affect your judgement.”

“I think she's been thinking it for a while.”

Okay… He didn't have much knowledge on their relationship. He didn't have any experience with romance for a long time. Ward was not the person to be dispensing that kind of advice.

“She said to me once, Gao told her I belonged to someone else. That I would never be hers and we had different paths to take.”

Ward shifted his feet on the mat. “Gao? She was Hand. They all manipulate and play mind games. Why would you take anything serious that woman said?”

“Sometimes people can see what you can't, and they're not wrong just because they do wrong.”

“What's going on, Danny?”

“If there's anything you can give me, it's the truth. That's all I ask.”

Frowning, his eyes went to the door. He could use his power to escape this claustrophobic situation. Danny was a solid six feet away, but the serious nature made him feel trapped and put on the spot.

“Okay…”

“How are you doing with your father's death?”

Wow. Straight to the enormous elephant not in the room. Couldn't he at least let him put some clothes on first?

“He was never going to let me go,” he said as a matter of fact.

“Yes.”

Yes? Meaning? He darted his eyes around the room, bearing Danny's direct stare for far too long. The duration of silence continued until he was doubting his own confidence. He'd meant the words. Were they somehow incorrect or inappropriate?

“It was the right thing to do,” he continued to reason.

“Yes.”

Thinking on what happened, he said, “I think Harold was right though. I think Kuo hoped I'd kill him one day. Marcus set me up so I'd keep having chances to do it.”

“The duty of the Iron Fist is to protect. You also accomplished that duty when you stabbed Harold. He was threatening Colleen. You were protecting a life.”

“I know that,” he told him, convinced he had to defend his action despite no one accusing him of wrongdoing.

“Good.”

Danny moved sideways, opening the door and leaving the bathroom. He followed him into the bedroom and watched him sit at the bottom of the bed before grimacing and standing to sit on the opposite end. Yeah… He was planning to find a new place to live when this was all in the past.

“Do you want to have a doctor check you out? See if the Egg of the Undying changed you?”

“It's not necessary. It's temporary.”

“What if it's not?”

He wasn't some superhero fighting crime on the streets. Owen taught him basic moves to take on a stronger opponent and that was it. He worked a desk job and busied himself with personal concerns so he wouldn't have to absorb the bad things as much.

“I can pretend it's not there. I don't ever have to use it.”

“Is that what you want?”

Now that he was remembering his training and Owen Alvaro, he was beginning to feel troubled. Kuo's servant and soldier said some things to him during their sessions he'd disregarded at the time. As the days passed and his way of seeing the world adjusted, Heart was turning out to be succeeding.

The Defenders caught one weapons shipment in progress. One. They destroyed a factory churning out the masked man in a bottle that was making people sick, but people were still sick and dying slow. Sandi had yet to create an antidote for the spreading illness and Heart successfully spread it into shops and street sales. The police were informed and conducting careful searches district by district, however, it was a process that would take a while. And he kept getting the feeling time was running short. Time running short for what, he couldn't say exactly.

He glanced down at his hands. “I don't know.”

Silence. It was a more comfortable silence. He went in search of new clothes and after slipping boxers on, he settled for a t-shirt and plain pants. Danny found the ceiling fascinating while he was dressing and seemed to be studying him afterward. What he would give to know what that brain was thinking.

“So you can teleport. Like, anywhere?”

He examined the enthusiastic smile breaking out across the other man's face and allowed himself a smile.

“I think so. I have to be able to see it in my mind though. It has to be a concrete image or else it doesn't work.”

“The water?”

Ward grinned. “Paris.”

Obviously impressing, he couldn't help the boast. “Pretty sure I can take people with me when I do it. I accidentally did it with Marcus at the motel. That's how we got out unseen.”

Matt arrived at the door, tapping on the open doorframe as polite announcement of his presence.

“When you teleported, I could feel a distortion in the air where you were, and sense the direction you were moving.”

That was enlightening. This man's vision was amazing, and yes, he knew how ironic it sounded.

“There were traces of light in the air too,” Danny said. “Very faint, but there are particles of the power used when you travel. Light the same color energy as my fist conjuring the power of the Undying.”

Weird. And cool. He was supposed to be despising this change. Gradually he was coming around to the idea of it. He'd take being a regular guy any day of the week, except it wasn't really a regular kind of week lately. The possibility of using this to his advantage like he had against his father crept into his mind.

Matt seemed to recall something, shifting his posture and demeanor a bit.

“Misty Knight's been checking out the police precinct made up of Cerberus members and Heart collaborators. Whatever they might be, a few of them were spotted going to and from a power station and cartel activity has been prominent along the waterfront.”

That was risky and bold as all hell. There were tens of thousands of police officers in New York. What kind of activities were they up to that they weren't afraid of exposure or arrest?

“Which waterfront?” he asked.

“All of them.”

His heart sank. That could only be terrible news. The sense of dread and foreboding was back. Kuo was going to make his move against the city. Whether it be days from now or hours, it was coming.

“I was thinking we split up and see what we can find out,” Matt suggested. “We'll start with the East River piers and should we need to, work our way from there. I can have Misty check out the plant.”

Danny stroked his chin, face scrunching the way it did when he was thinking hard. He eventually contemplated his appearance and strained to be patient and not eye-rolling. Who made him in charge of anyone? No way.

“Okay well,” he began. “We all caught a few hours sleep this morning but still. Ward, try to get some real sleep while we investigate this.”

So that was it. They were planning to put him on the sidelines some more. He could be someone other than a burden. He kind of felt he had to prove it. A very irresponsible and crazy idea came to him.

“I can help. What about the power station? Which one is it?”

He caught Danny spinning around with a look that was very much trying to impress upon the man not to tell him. Before he could speak a word to that effort, Matt was answering.

“One in Queens. Long Island.”

“What exactly would your plan be?” Danny demanded. “You can't just waltz into the power station and demand to know what's going on.”

“I can if we wait for the dirty cops to leave, then I go in pretending to be one of those dirty cops.”

“One of us can do it. I don't want you in danger.”

Ward glared. “I'm already in danger. We all are. And what if they recognize you? Every last one of you put your faces out there for the whole city to see when you fought the Hand at Midland Circle.” He glanced sidelong toward the man standing in the doorway. “Okay, except for you because you wore a mask. But you can't do it either cause..”

He didn't want to say it but Matt had little problem saying it for him.

“Cause I'm blind? Eh, it's a fair point.”

They were considering, which meant it wasn't the worst idea ever. It didn't sound like the greatest idea to him either, but he was determined to do something useful. He let Rand get invaded by these eerie shadow operatives. It was high time he did a good thing in turn, try to even out the balance of his karma or what not.

Danny was shaking his head. “No. I won't risk it. Misty can go in, ask questions.”

“They'll know her too. She was also big news with the whole arm thing and being with you all. I wasn't there. And people tend not to pay attention to boring white collar type faces, whether they're keeping the economy going or not. They don't care. They look at what knowingly affects them.”

It sounded somewhat like Kuo coming out of his mouth and he did not like that in the slightest. Danny's remark earlier was a solid one. Bad people could be right about things sometimes. And the truth was, people in general were self-centered and self-absorbed. Trapped in a singular mind all day, every day, how could someone not be?

Ward met Danny's hard gaze with confidence he was making himself feel. “I can do this. I can also teleport out should anything go wrong.”

There was reluctance in his voice when he asked, “Where will we get you a police uniform?”


	31. Chapter 30: Inspiring

_**“The way he fights, not just his body but, his heart, it's like a second language to him. It's inspiring.”** _   
_**-Colleen Wing** _

Early morning turned late. Ward was busy practicing the general kicks and punches he'd learned from a Heart member as part of his training to join. He and Colleen monitored his progress, the latter correcting his posture or reteaching a move here and there. She used to be Heart. She would know. Danny was impressed by how well the office worker managed to consistently perform when he concentrated and put his body behind the blows.

“He's holding back.”

Breaking out of his thoughts, he looked to the woman stepping up to stand beside him. “Huh?”

The practicing pair were taking a water break. Danny wouldn't let Ward go into potential danger unless he could handle himself against the average enemy. He made the decision overnight. The older man believed he had a grasp on teleportation now, but he wasn't convinced. There hadn't been much time since learning of the ability. He knew firsthand how it could take a while to develop and master power. He didn't see the point in risking it if they didn't have to.

She took a long drink out of her water bottle, perhaps stalling.

The dojo was a little worse for wear, missing glass in its windows. The glass had been swept to the sides for now, and everything else was primarily untouched. He considered having Ward try fighting him. He'd have to go easy of course. Still, it sounded like fun.

He remembered Colleen's claim and returned his focus to her. “So what did you mean? How is he holding back?”

Inexplicably, she said something very different.

“I want to end this thing between you and me.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

She was doing this now? Ward was going into the bathroom, presumably to relieve himself. They had their privacy he supposed.

“I know, I know. Now isn't a great time. I was going to wait, but, well, I'm not.”

“Colleen?”

He wanted her to explain herself. He wanted the reason. He wanted to hear if he guessed right. She'd been purposefully moving away from him for months. Why, why, why?

“You are someone special to me, Danny. That hasn't changed. But we, we have.”

She sighed and wandered over to the table pushed against the wall, setting her bottle down. Turning back around seemed to be a momentous effort for her, and meeting his questioning gaze an even bigger challenge.

“I wanted to be whole with someone, to be needed and fit. We understand each other pretty well and have similar desires in life, which made us seem to fit for a while. I found a new family in you and somewhere to belong. But I'm not needed. And now with Ward-”

Getting defensive, he demanded, “What about Ward?”

Colleen lifted a hand. “Let me finish.”

He sealed his lips, waiting impatiently. Danny had known this was likely coming, yet he was angry anyway.

“I was going to say, and now with Ward you have the family you were hoping for all along. Besides that, as the Iron Fist, you've always got your own stuff going on and that's okay. I want something similar. It's why we have to break up. I want to find my own thing too.”

Danny threw up his hands. “I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say.”

“Do you think I'm wrong?”

His silence was an answer in itself.

“It's a mutual feeling then, don't you think? I'll see this mission through with you because the city is probably in serious danger, and I have to take care of Bakuto, but after...” Briefly pausing, she then added, “We go our separate ways.”

He glanced at the door to see Ward was still out of earshot and looked into her eyes again.

“What will you do?”

The woman shrugged. “Misty Knight said some things like she might be looking for a little more than her current line of work. Maybe we'll figure it out together.”

“Oh.”

He genuinely didn't know what he was supposed to say. He wasn't sure how he felt. Irritation was definitely affecting him presently. Danny faced the bathroom, irrationally suspicious and working to push down the anger.

“You're not teleporting in there, are you?”

A lengthy pause followed by, “No…”

“Cause if you are-”

Ward cut him off, quicker to respond this time with that trademark sarcasm.

“If I was teleporting, I wouldn't be talking to you now. I'd be someplace else.”

Audible running water and the door opened, Ward walking out.

“And I thought I had trust issues.”

“Ward.”

“Danny.”

He narrowed his eyes at the man intentionally being difficult. Colleen rolled her eyes.

“You guys are idiots.”

Ward stared at a spot in their direction but not quite looking at them. He teleported across the room, faltering to a stop a few feet away. Breathing out, he adjusted his balance and smiled their way.

“Awesome, right?”

His gaze remained irritated and unimpressed. “What happened to it's going away and you want nothing to do with it?”

“Well, might not have a choice,” he replied readily. “Kuo isn't exactly going to give us many options whenever he makes his move on the city.”

Colleen took a moment to look him over. “You seem to be handling your dad's death rather well.”

She didn't sound bothered by it, just curious.

Ward's excitement for his successful teleportation faded. He grew more solemn and somewhat sad. His shoulders slumped and Danny could tell she regretted bringing it up.

“My father had issues. He's dead because of it. He also had chances to be a better man and he chose to be a homicidal dick. I'll miss my father, but I won't miss the monster he became.” He brightened a fraction. “So I can go on and be free of the weight he hung around my shoulders. I have my life back. It's good.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said.

Danny smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Stop teleporting.”

“Jealous?”

He was. He really was and it was stupid. Still, that wasn't what he meant by his warning. Before he could think of a suitable comeback, his phone rang.

Fumbling with it, he heard Ward say, “You say don't use it now, but the second I could use it to bail us out of trouble or something…”

“Hello, Luke,” he said in a loud voice, hinting for the other man to shut up. “What's going on?”

He listened to the update on their nighttime activities. The man investigated waterfront properties alongside Matt and Jessica throughout the night. They didn't find a single thing and Matt eventually broke off to go visit Frank and then check on the safe house occupants.

Not finding a single thing off couldn't be great for them. That had to mean something was up out there and they weren't seeing it. The power station might hold the answer they were searching for after all. Luke asked about it, asking if he and Jessica should go take a look.

“No, you should both get some rest. We're going to need our strength soon enough I imagine,” he told him. “Ward and I will go.”

Colleen gave him a look but he ignored her as Luke suggested he tell Misty.

“Then I'll call her. Get sleep.”

He hung up and turned first to Colleen. “I want you to meet Claire and see what's the deal with the sickness. Have the police stopped the spread? Has anyone else died? How many sick? Will it affect how the city runs?”

Danny got distracted by the awed look Ward was giving him. He frowned at it.

“What?”

“Nothing, just, wow.”

“Wow, what?” he asked, glaring in annoyance.

His now ex-girlfriend sauntered across the short distance between her and Ward to murmur softly.

“He's a big boy some days.”

They sniggered together at his expense. Why was it so astonishing sometimes when he proved capable of thinking on the bigger picture? He could be intelligent. He wasn't an idiot. Who got dumped in the middle of a mission? This was embarrassing and frustrating.

He stomped over and grabbed Ward's arm. “Come on. We've got to meet Misty and make you look like a cop.”

Ward grew serious. “Should I teleport us somewhere?”

“No!”

“Geez. Relax.”

“We have my car and I will drive us where we are going. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don't do that,” he ordered as they left the room and began walking down the hallway.

“Do what?”

“Don't do that either.”

“Do what either?”

He growled his frustration into his fist, Ward smirking all the while. Asshole.

/

It was nearing noon when they arrived at the large army surplus store. Misty was waiting for them outside the building. Surprisingly, Matt was waiting with her.

The man was quick to provide explanation, sharing that he'd already grabbed a few hours of sleep sitting at Frank's bedside in the hospital. The man woke for brief bouts of consciousness but was hardly cognizant. Point being, he was rested and ready to help the threatened city.

Danny held the assumption he was also uneasy involving an ordinary citizen. If it was solely the dubbed Defenders embarking into potentially dangerous territory, he'd be fine. Ward had minimal fighting skill and was in the process of working out new abilities. He was a noncombatant, or should be anyway.

Their task was easier than he imagined. Misty explained law enforcement used this store all the time to supplement the uniform given to them by their command. The store sold everything you could think of for officers' equipment. They trailed after Misty while she accumulated items and tossed them into the arms of an increasingly perplexed looking Ward.

After a few minutes gathering things, she pushed him toward the dressing room.

“Go put it on. See how it fits. I have a pretty good eye for size, but let's be sure.”

She glanced at them while he watched Ward walking away.

“I have to get the weapons he'll need for the belt over at that counter. Be right back.”

Giving them a small wave, she wandered off.

Danny found Ward with his eyes again. He wanted to keep close surveillance on him. They'd been watched by Kuo's people plenty of times to feel he had to be on guard whenever they went out anywhere.

/

He contemplated if they were being watched. Their plan could be foiled before they ever got it started. Kuo called him last night, shortly after dinnertime. He didn't answer. He'd turned off his phone instead.

It was the reason Ward welcomed the delay in the impersonating an officer charade for a session of training. He feared the Heart leader would be prepared to seek him out once he enacted his plan. He worried the others might get hurt. Checking his phone for what must have been the fiftieth time so far that day, he saw Sandi had not called. The city needed a cure and he needed a favor.

Shifting the pile of clothing and belt so it wouldn't slip out of his hold, he entered the back area. There were a row of dressing rooms and only the first one was occupied. He skipped one, like the urinal rule, and stepped inside. Ward shuffled to the other side and set the pile down, turning around in the tiny room to shut the door.

A dash of bright hair and dark clothing and Marcus was sliding inside. Ward's mouth was covered when he made a startled shout. He was maneuvered and pushed into the wall beside the door, fingers prying at the offending hand.

“Relax. I'm not here on orders.”

Marcus hesitated several moments and then removed the hand over his mouth, taking a step back. Staring at him, he slid to stand straighter against the wall.

“How is that better?” he asked, volume rising.

He was not at all pleased to have this man showing up out of nowhere. What did he even want? Did this mean Kuo wasn't far behind?

When he started to voice his complaints, beginning with a protest on what the hell he was doing in the dressing room, the hand slapped back onto his mouth. He went silent, unwilling to let his muffled words go on any longer. That was about the time Matt pulled the door open wide, Danny right next to him.

/

“Okay,” the man said, one hand covering Ward's mouth, and the other gripping a wrist. “This looks bad.”

Danny pulled Patterson out of the small room and away from Ward. Clenching his black shirt collar, he threatened physical harm unless they were told what he was doing with Ward and what Kuo was planning for the city. The man didn't appear the least bit intimidated and glanced at the recently vacated dressing room's occupant.

He sighed and released him when Ward motioned it was okay. Moving into the doorway, he examined his assailant in puzzlement. Danny watched them both, set to smash a fist into his skull if the Heart member looked at any of them the wrong way.

“I'm here to help. Owen's been assigned to monitor Ward so we're good. This visit won't be noticed by Kuo and he won't know what you're up to.”

Help? And who was Owen? Maybe Ward mentioned the name... Did Patterson know what they were intending to do? Why was he here?

Extremely suspicious now, he didn't act friendly. “Or this is all a lie your master wants you to tell. He's probably still screwing with Ward, isn't that it?”

“I don't know precisely where you're planning to send Ward dressed like police, but you better hope it's worthwhile. Kuo's gearing up to take the city and he'll pull it off. For how long will be entirely up to you people. He's sending hits out on each of the Defenders of New York. He's going to try to infect you with what's making everybody else sick so you're easier to kill.”

Danny scowled. “That suppressant power? What made me unable to harness the power of the Iron Fist for a while? What put Luke in a coma?”

“Yes,” replied Patterson. “So watch your ass and don't let the masked man get too close.”

He studied the man providing them with a warning. Ward said he thought the guy was a sadist, and Matt mentioned workplace harassment. They didn't trust him so he was finding it difficult to listen. But why come here and tell them things that couldn't possibly benefit his master?

“I don't believe you're here to help,” he finally said. “Leave or I will make you leave.”

Patterson didn't seem surprised by the reception. He shrugged and walked out of the dressing area. Matt followed him and he turned back to Ward. Nodding toward the clothing, he pulled the door shut and waited on the other side for him to change. All the while, he remained bothered by their visitor.

Danny was continuing to decide whether the warning helped or could hurt them in some way, when Ward exited the changing stall. He drew out of his thoughts as the man stood in the room uncertainly. He tugged at the uniform's stiff collar before his hands settled on the belt.

“How's it look?”

He looked like a cop. If Danny didn't know him so well, he'd be fooled. Another examination and his eyebrows raised. He could be fooled regardless actually.

“Great,” he breathed out. “I'd mistake you for an actual policeman.”

Ward peered at his reflection in the dressing room mirror. “You sure? I feel weird.”

“You look good.”

He shut his mouth and wandered toward the exit when Ward studied him following his last comment. Too much praise. Take it easy, he demanded of himself.

Danny's mood darkened after seeing Patterson was still here. The man was pretending to browse through a selection of military style jackets while Matt stood nearby. He caught sight of Misty heading for them, several new items in hand.

She glanced around before her eyes alighted on Ward, leaving the dressing area with his own clothes tucked under an arm. A big smile spread across her face. Stepping up, she set about fixing the items to his belt in order to complete the look.

While she worked, Danny noted his eyes were lingering on the pepper spray before gravitating to linger on the stun gun. His eyes rose to Patterson proceeding this, and he had to fight to keep the smile off his face. Ward was imagining using the weapons on the other. He wasn't the only person rubbed the wrong way by this smug and perplexing individual.

“There! Excellent!”

Misty settled back to admire the result and said, “I'm convinced you're a real cop and I know you're not. That is mission accomplished.”

Uncertain, he glanced down at the uniform he was wearing. “Hopefully.”

“I was feeling a little off today,” Patterson announced brazenly, staring at Ward direct. “But you definitely turned me on.”

Ward devolved into sputtering self-consciousness that was already heightened wearing the outfit. His angry glare went unseen by the enemy feigning at being helpful as he was striding purposefully to the store exit. He paused long enough to give a thumbs up, the appendage flaring into a flame. It was extinguished before anyone else could witness it and he was gone, disappearing out the door.

His attention went to his friends when a phone rang. It was Ward's phone and he scolded himself for not remembering he had the thing. He was meant to be keeping an eye on him and there had been an awful lot of phone checking for a guy who wasn't working at the moment, and who shouldn't be expecting any calls. Wait, except one call. Could there be a solution already?

Digging the device out of his pants folded beneath an arm, he answered. The conversation didn't last long and he hung up, grinning. He hurried into the dressing area to get changed again, calling back to them one excited proclamation.

“There's a cure!”

The sudden development meant they would have to put the undercover operation on hold. The large number of sick and dying took precedence over a potential power problem they didn't know anything about. Even so, Misty volunteered to go into work and use her computer to see if there was anything amiss with the station or any stations supplying power to the city. He agreed, knowing they couldn't ignore the issue if it ended up being a part of Kuo's plans.

/

They ended up spending the afternoon at Rand Enterprises in the chemical department. The cure was indeed finished and they brought in a voluntary patient to test it on. It was an employee of the company. Nina Monroe fell sick at work that morning and had been lying down on an office sofa for most of the day, too tired to do otherwise.

There were severe cases that needed the cure as soon as possible, but Sandi was against giving it to someone until they were certain it wouldn't hurt them. She gave in when the patient was a company employee willing to try it no matter what. Nina had seen what happened to some of these people in the later stages. She didn't want her children seeing their mother rotting away without a fight.

Hours passed as they waited for the result they hoped for. The drug left her passed out in the chair she'd been sitting in when she was injected. Claire and Colleen arrived, Jessica and Luke not far behind them. Ward had employees and hired transporters on stand-by to assist should the drug prove effective. He seemed to hold a lot of faith that it would and this was encouraging to Danny.

It was growing dark, sun nearly finished setting, when Nina woke up. She was happy to report feeling okay, normal. Claire determined the most severe cases would be given the cure, while the less severe could wait. She wanted Nina to check into the hospital where she could undergo observation until they were certain she was permanently cured. The very sick couldn't wait, whether the cure was a cure or not. The rest could and would.

Danny, meanwhile, was concerned on what was all contaminated. People were still getting sick and since as far as he knew they weren't making any more poison or whatever, that meant the contaminated products were already out there. He'd have to try and learn if the police were discovering everything spreading the “infection” so to speak.

“They've gone, Danny. What are we going to do?”

He looked up from his seat on Ward's office sofa. Had he been so lost in thought as not to notice everyone's departure? A quick survey of the office informed him he rather had been. He'd known Jessica went with Colleen to head the delivery order of the cure to every hospital, but was surprised Claire hadn't gone with them.

Ward was the one speaking to him, but his curiosity aroused, he questioned the medical professional standing beside her boyfriend.

“Is everything okay? Why didn't you go with them?”

“I want to know people aren't going to keep getting sick, Danny. Can you promise me that?”

He took notice of an absence. “Where's Matt?”

She sighed, looking exhausted. “He went to be his alter-ego and keep an eye on the city. He thinks trouble is just getting started and I'd like to hear he's wrong.”

Danny couldn't tell her that. He watched Ward step outside his office again, talking to Sandi briefly. She handed him something somewhat out of his sight from this angle, so he stood to get a better look. Whatever it was he was stashing inside his jacket, zipping it closed, and the woman was leaving.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

“Don't mind us.”

Ward wasn't moving, staring at the man who spoke, exiting the elevator. Although he didn't recognize the person by their voice, by the looks on Luke and Claire's faces now, he knew. Danny rushed to get to Ward, however, he didn't get much past Luke, before Kuo was strolling into the office like it was perfectly ordinary.

“Danny Rand, it's been a while.”

Abrupt flashes of all the crap this man put him through went through his mind. His rage grew. He didn't come alone. Patterson was with him. So was the nicely dressed woman who helped Harold take Ward away from the house, just like Marcus Patterson did. He knew he was right not to trust the man.

A handful of his followers accompanied him as well. They were dressed in casual clothing and jackets, but very easily could be the trained ninja types. As far as he was concerned, they were Hand, no matter what new name they called themselves today.

He walked to the window behind the desk and turned toward Ward.

“Come.”

Danny was stunned when his friend obediently entered the office to stand beside him like he wanted. He did know he didn't have to listen to him anymore, right?

“This is only the first to go,” Kuo said. “Watch.”

They stared out the window together, Kuo confident and Ward unsure of the reason. Danny edged closer. No one reacted to his movement and he walked across the room to stand by Ward's other side without interference.

Whatever was going on in his friend's head, he wanted to make clear he wasn't alone.

Glancing up from his cell phone, he said, “And so a great city falls.”

The light in the room turned off and he realized it was likely the same in the rest of the building too. Beyond the window, buildings were going dark as the lights went out. Whole sections of the city blackening in seconds. Right now, the rapidly fading sunlight was all that kept them from total darkness.


	32. Chapter 31: Hostile Takeover

_**“For most of these people, you are a hostile takeover.”** _   
_**-Jeri Hogarth** _

The evening becoming night, he spotted hanging clouds seemingly darkening with the power outage. He wondered if it would bring a thunderstorm along with the rain. It would certainly be fitting.

He saw less and less as the sun completed its descent beneath the horizon. People down below were probably panicking or complaining. Knowing people, they were doing both.

“You would be wise to separate yourself from your new friends,” Kuo advised. “The coming days will not prove kind to them.”

“What are you doing?” he demanded, despite knowing how much the man despised being talked down to.

“I would think that was obvious,” the man answered, turning partially to face him. “Taking the city.”

“How could you possibly do that?”

He frowned, managing to look pleased while he did it. “How deceitful of you. Fishing for information so you can try and stop me. I'm disappointed, Ward.”

“Good. I disappoint you then I must be doing the right thing.”

Danny caught his eye and smiled a little, showing he was the opposite of disappointed and supporting him.

“You didn't disappoint concerning your father.”

His face flushed, shame and guilt flooding into him, ridiculous as it was to feel. He knew he'd killed Harold because there was no other choice. He saw Colleen in immediate danger and reacted, tired of his inaction or poor choices causing people to get hurt. Ward felt like a patricidal murderer who couldn't get enough of it, regardless of knowing the true reasons he killed his abusive father each time. Three times was just absurd. God had a cruel sense of humor maybe.

“Now if only you would show the same judgement for these criminals you associate with.”

“That's rich coming from you.”

Luke shushed Claire and she pulled away from his attempted reach, moving closer to where they stood by the window. Her exhausted eyes were wide and ticked off. She appeared absolutely done with Heart's BS.

“Danny is basically family to him. He doesn't torture people and undervalue them like you do either. You think you're going to somehow convince Ward to turn against us?”

“I hope so. Otherwise I'll have to kill him. That would be regretful.” As usual, the guy didn't know when to shut his mouth. “Killing you, that I don't mind at all.”

Angry he was threatening the non-violent, kind person he knew her to be, Ward threw a punch.

Kuo did not expect it but parried the fist with his forearm and twisted the limb. He lashed out with his other fist which was also blocked and so he drove his knee upward. Successfully nailing him in the stomach, he pulled his arms free.

When Danny put himself between them, urging Ward to stay behind him, he listened. The Heart leader had eyes for him though, and continued meeting his gaze beyond Danny's shoulder. He swallowed, afraid.

The man relaxed. “You'll never be a good leader until you take control of your passions, Ward.”

“Why are you here?” asked Danny, exuding barely contained rage.

“Let's go where we can get a better view, shall we?”

It wasn't really asking when men with automatic weapons aimed them until they followed Kuo to the staircase. He led them to the rooftop, Marcus and Mikka taking up the rear. Mikka looked like crap. The Punisher did a number on her face, she walked a bit awkward, and an arm was in a sling.

Once they reached the end of one side of the building, he stood by the edge and turned around to speak to them.

“This will just be the first city to fall. They'll make it so and not even I can prevent it.”

Who were they? What? He hated being confused. Ever since meeting Danny, it happened more and more. He wasn't sure yet if it was a good thing to continuously have his worldview expanding. His inability to be happy just made him accept what came.

He was motioning to one of his people and the man stepped forward, removing a metal case. The man held it out to Kuo, who opened it and removed a needled syringe and a bottle. He filled the syringe with the liquid in the bottle. Ward identified the liquid. He'd recently acquired two doses of the exact same thing tucked away securely inside his jacket.

What he had was an extremely potent concentration. It made the fluid a cherry red color. This was darker like the product in the factory, which made him think it wasn't as strong. This could be straight from the man without any tinkering. It was probably what was mixed into pharmaceutical products infecting people.

Another nod and Mikka was grabbing hold of Claire, forcing her to stand at the edge. They couldn't help her without getting shot full of bullets. Since Luke wasn't afraid of bullets, he went for the women and Marcus called out that he really shouldn't. The big man hesitated and glowered at him.

“You get near the syringe and it will affect you,” warned Marcus. “You won't be so bulletproof anymore.”

Was that true? Either way, Ward guessed right about now he was remembering his sudden coma. His eyes darted to the fluid in the syringe and to his girlfriend. He was going to make a move anyway.

Hands clenched into fists and he started for Claire when Mikka pushed her up onto the ledge.

Claire gasped, staring downward at the height. “Sweet Christmas.”

The guns switched to solely aiming toward him and Danny.

“Your friends aren't bulletproof. And do you really think you can reach her before Mikka gives her a shove?”

Luke stopped moving, fixing his glare onto Kuo. “You do that and it'll be the last thing you ever do.”

“I don't think so,” he replied calmly, looking at Danny now. “You and your friend are going to be injected with the suppressant serum. Do that, and we won't harm your friend there.”

Claire immediately shook her head, though she really didn't like the position she was in. Her gaze strayed to peer over the edge, her foot an inch from sliding over the side. Ward paid her the most attention, concentrating. If they pushed her…

“We take the dose of anti-power and then what? You kill us?” Luke pressed.

“Yes.” He smiled. “What? You don't want to lay down and die for your city?”

Ward could see Danny's eyes flickering everywhere. He was trying to think up a plan to disrupt theirs. He could do it. However, Kuo saw the impending action and as soon as the fist began to glow, and it was a second of time at most, he ordered her to drop.

“No!” Luke and Danny screamed at virtually the same time and with nearly the same anguish.

He didn't scream or shout or worry. He focused on the air, on the woman, on being mid-air falling like she had to be now. Claire was screaming and it was affecting him too. It wasn't working and he realized he had to see her.

Teleporting to the edge, he ignored Mikka's surprised shout, Kuo's eyes piercing into the side of his face. He concentrated on trying to see into the darkness. The moment he caught sight of a glimpse of white, he thought about being there, in that exact spot.

His stomach squeezed, tightening, and next thing he knew he was plummeting down, completely free falling. He was past her, having missed his mark, and focused on being a few yards up where she was presently screaming a terrified scream. Ward vanished and popped into being again, smashing into her.

Shocked, she clawed onto him in absolute fear. Wrapping his arms around her thrashing form the best he could, he imagined the staircase and landing below them. He pictured them standing there at the top of the steps, struggling to focus as air rushed by.

Ward stood on the stairs with a quivering woman in his arms. They were both out of breath but she appeared ready to collapse, and did so against him. She sobbed her distress and terror, having come close to dying by falling off a 45-story building.

“It's okay,” he murmured. “I've got you.”

“Claire! Ward!”

Surprised, he turned them around to see Matt jogging toward them, pushing out of Rand's front doors. He was dressed as Daredevil and bleeding out of one side of his mouth. Had he gotten into a fight?

“Are you okay? That was unbelievable.”

“It-” he interrupted his automatic response to express confusion. “What are you doing here?”

He was quick to explain. “Heart knew about the cure. They came to destroy it.”

Ward glanced worriedly at the front of the building. “Did they?”

“No. But they tried.”

“Ward. Kuo,” uttered Claire, drawing out of his arms to wipe her face, working to gather herself.

It was too high up to see anything on the roof. Did they venture back inside? Wait it out and see what happened? He felt pretty confident without leverage to use against Luke and Danny, they were putting up a fight. They'd be too reckless and stubborn not to try battling it out.

There was shouting and screaming in the distance. They all of them turned in the direction they thought it came. He couldn't distinguish where it was coming from specifically, or what it might mean.

Matt supplied what he was aware of. “It's chaos everywhere. As soon as the light went out, masked soldiers in gray crept from the shadows. His loyal servants are everywhere too, and it's only going to get worse.”

“What are they doing?”

“Controlling the traffic in and out of the city. Nobody's being allowed to leave.”

“That's what they were doing by the waterfront properties,” Claire realized aloud, calmer now.

Danny burst through the front door, Luke close behind. They searched their surroundings and came up empty. Settling gazes onto them, they hurried for them.

Claire ran into her boyfriend's arms and Danny looked at him with immense relief.

“We could sort of see it from the roof,” he revealed. “You were whipping about, disappearing and reappearing with traces of light illuminating the path. We couldn't see for sure if you landed on the ground safely.”

“That was amazing,” said Luke, rocking Claire in his hold. “Thank you for what you did.”

He waved the gratitude away. “What else would I do?”

Danny was looking around again. “Kuo must have run out a side exit. Damn.”

They had to figure out what was going on. Heart wasn't letting people leave, but it wouldn't take more than a day for the outside world to catch wind and come marching in with the National Guard or something. How could he possibly hope to retain control over the city?

An explosion. Another and another. There was nothing in their district that he could see. He wasn't certain how far explosive sounds carried. If you could hear it did that mean it was close? A fourth explosion jarred them into motion.

“We've got to see what that is,” Danny said.

Matt nodded. “I'll go see. You should get to the safe house. It might be the only place safe for us in the city soon.”

It started to rain, a heavy downpour cascading from the sky. He blinked upward, concerned this would make everything harder to discover. Matt was smiling though, and Ward recalled what he'd said once about seeing more clearly when it rained. The man's eyes lowered to him for a time, still smiling.

“Don't worry,” he said. “No matter what they do, they won't succeed. We won't let them.”

Turning, he ran across the empty street, heavy sheets of rain and then darkness making him seem to vanish.

Glad one of them was so assured of their stopping this. Kuo had many loyal disciples and a plan they didn't know the details of. Thinking on details made him think about their own, specifically their own people.

Frank would be vulnerable at the hospital. Would he be okay with the machines off? They'd have backup generators, wouldn't they? Was he on a machine? He didn't know anything and it frustrated him. It also made him determined to find out.

“We can't go to the safe house yet,” he told the others. “We have to get Frank.”

“Castle?” Luke questioned. “That guy will be fine. Why wouldn't he be?”

“Danny?” he asked, looking to hear what he thought they should do.

“We're stronger and safer together. We get everyone together who could be endangered because of us, and any who can help us learn what's being done inside the city. Then we plan how to put a stop to it.”

/

When they arrived at the hospital, Frank was on his feet. Micro was with him, maybe having the same idea about the man's endangerment. There was a woman and two children in the room as well. He assumed they must be Micro's family and were introduced as such when they were seen.

Frank actually seemed pretty good, if you discounted the thick layers of bandages wrapped around his stomach. It obviously pained him as he reached over his head to pull on a t-shirt. And he wasn't happy to see them.

“You people should be ducking and covering.” He yanked on his arm, pulling him close to disapprovingly scan his soaked stature. “Especially you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded, disgruntled. “That's the plan. But you're part of the plan. We're gathering at the new safe house.”

“You look cold.”

He spun around. Marcus was addicted to this following thing. It was aggravating.

The man strode into the darkened hospital room, examining his appearance.

“Want to use me as a blanket?”

Ward glared at the mocking arms opening to embrace him. “Not on your life.”

“Organ damage, internal bleeding. Remember that?” Micro was telling. “You're not fighting anybody anytime soon, Frank.”

Apparently Frank wanted to pound the crap out of Marcus. Made sense. Marcus was one of the people who abducted him from Danny's apartment. Sheesh. How many times did Frank have to get damaged for him?

He pushed the guilt down and stared at the insane man who persisted in walking into rooms full of people hating him. Not for the last time, he pondered on what his game was. Why did he suddenly turn on a cause he claimed to believe in once? It didn't make sense.

“As we speak, it's all hands on deck for the proud New York City police force. Precincts are calling in every officer to deal with the emergency power sabotage and military looking soldiers who have taken over the exits from the city. Should be no contest. More than 34,000 officers…”

“What the hell you up to, asshole?” said Frank, gruff and intimidating.

His hand turned into flame, alarming David's wife and children. Ward wasn't worried, and neither were the others. Turns out that was an accurate reaction on their part.

“Need a flashlight?”

“Not funny, Marcus. People could be dying out there.”

The fire went out and his hand lowered to rest on his hip. “You can't help. He's made pacts with every criminal enterprise in this city to join his side and keep the law-abiding citizens in line. Minutes from now, the police will be trapped inside their precincts by tactfully placed explosives. Until the rubble is moved, they're stuck. Kuo intends to leave them there to starve.”

“Oh my God. We have to help them,” Claire said.

Marcus continued like she'd never spoken. “Hospitals will be struggling to deal with the loss of power and it will not come back unless you bring it back. Heart doesn't require power for the new world and they're communicating with radios. The people in hospitals are considered weak and will be abandoned and left to die.”

“The government won't let this go on,” reasoned Claire. “There's no way this siege is going to stick.”

“You'll find phone signals have been blocked, no Internet without satellite access. When the U.S. government responds, they will find they can't enter or help.”

Danny glared. “Why is that?”

“A final television broadcast was made before the city went dark. Twelve a day will die unless the city is left alone. Twelve random people. Though the first were far from random.”

“Twelve people are dead? How could you? Kuo will pay for this!” yelled Danny, furious.

“I don't see how that stops the military from marching in and wiping your asses out,” Frank said.

“It will delay and then it will be too late. They'll have bigger concerns to deal with. This is the first city to fall, just the first.”

Ward finally asked what he'd been wondering since Kuo's remark about “they”.

“Heart is instigating the new world with that German or European cult because they believe it's already supposed to happen. Who out there is making them think this? They're so certain.”

Marcus turned to go, answering as he walked through the doorway. “It doesn't matter if they do come. None of this will matter. I'm counting on him being wrong, you understand?”

He was perplexed to find the man seeking his comprehension, waiting for it. Ward didn't understand though, not any of this. What was out there? Who?

The man gave up on waiting for him and resumed his fast paced walk, throwing them a final thing to contemplate and baffle.

“Did anyone else express doubt this was the sole outcome?”

Danny shouted for him to stop when he ran after the nonsensical idiot. He said he wanted to help but insisted on being vague half the time. What was he playing at? If he really cared he'd be on their side, not showing up to give some stupid clues and then disappearing again.

And he had disappeared. His eyes scanned the darkened hallway without luck. There was no sign of him.

Huffing, he returned to the room, Danny in the doorway watching him. The woman and kids looked scared. Who could blame them?

He was afraid and feeling helpless again. It only convinced him to do something. He wouldn't hide. His bag was still in Danny's car with the uniform. There was guaranteed to be one functioning and accessible police precinct remaining.


	33. Chapter 32: Govern the World

_**“We are living in a new age, where governments aren't the true controllers of man's destinies. It's corporations like Rand Enterprises that govern the world.”** _   
_**-Bakuto** _

It was the fourth day and they had no idea where Kuo, the masked man, or the cartel leaders were hiding. Steadily the situation deteriorated, while Heart's control solidified. Criminals ran the streets, taking over courthouses and whatever businesses suited their fancy. Banks were robbed on day two, wealthy homes and other businesses vandalized during mass rioting throughout the following two days. The majority of people hid in their homes or their friends' homes and hoped for the best.

The outside world didn't dare enter the city under Heart's promise of twelve random executions daily. After the second day, they finally listened and ceased the National Guard's attempts to breach the city against the soldiers in gray. It would be bad for their reputation if they swept into the city and directly caused twelve more innocent lives to be lost, especially when they were warned the third round of twelve would be children.

Their vehicle hit a bump in the road. Karen squinted out the window. Anyone who ventured outside did so at their own risk. It was getting dark and things would be really dangerous once it was pitch black. The more organized and ambitious criminals came out at night in the electricity free zone.

Danny and the others expended their efforts to restore order and protect people primarily in the nighttime.

“Shit,” she swore, slowing her car to a crawl. “I knew that was a speed bump.”

On a random street? That boded misfortune for them. Sure enough, up ahead nearly a dozen unsavory types were waiting. They thought they'd avoided all of the roadblocks set by criminals. Guess they'd missed one.

As she inched toward where a guy with a metal bat resting on his shoulder gestured for them to stop, Nelson peeked into the backseat.

“What's the plan?”

The most experienced fighter among them, Colleen, glanced to her left at Claire and then to her right at him. Her eyes lifted to his baseball cap and he tugged it lower on his face subconsciously. They probably weren't looking for him, but why chance it?

“Let's see what they want.”

Knowing her better than that, Claire asked, “And then?”

“And then I kick their asses.”

He examined her mostly white tracksuit and the sword laying at her feet.

“Maybe we shouldn't have brought you. If they recognize you and get word back to Kuo...”

“He's got a point,” Nelson said. “We're close to the safe house. They might suspect and search for us.”

“Maybe we'll luck out and Bakuto will come looking himself.”

“Colleen,” Claire uttered sternly.

The younger woman relaxed in her seat and shrugged, sliding her hands into her pockets.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We needed the food and you guys needed the protection. I won't use the sword and I bet these guys are dumb enough not to recognize me.”

A black truck drove past, ambling gradually behind the makeshift barricade. Its constant message blared loud from the speakers affixed to the roof. Attached to the side were blown up newspaper articles about the Defenders, and the message spray painted above the pictures offered money to any who killed a Defender.

The recording spoke of the government abandoning the city to its fate. Encouraged people to take control of their own destinies. Criminals were proclaimed as being just one of the people now. No longer to be hated or looked down upon, they had power. Mostly the message incited fear or celebratory rage, creating riots, protests, and barricaded homes.

“Come out.”

The five of them got out of the car, watching as the gangsters or bandits explored closer. A few were studying them while the others were looking over the vehicle, wondering if there was anything worthwhile inside. If they saw the food in the trunk they would try to take it. There was a building full of hungry people in need of it, so that wouldn't be happening.

“Police, government, citizens,” Karen murmured, potentially to herself. “What makes a city tick. Three valves, just like the human heart has, and he hit them all.”

“Karen?” Nelson queried, eyebrows raised.

She peered over the car's roof. “Nothing. This is a great story.”

“Well when you're done patting yourself on the back,” Claire said, eying a man with a heavy chain wrapped around his knuckles approaching the trunk.

“Stop talking,” the thug with the baseball bat ordered. “What you got in there?”

“It's empty,” Nelson tried to convince. “That is, unless you count a few rotting radishes and onions. It was all we could find that wasn't being sold at exorbitant pricing.”

A man swinging a pipe walked up to the lawyer, staring him down, searching for the hint of a lie. Apparently not finding anything as the man smiled pleasantly back at him, he stepped around. His sights set on Ward next, right as another criminal moved into his personal space.

They didn't want this to turn violent either. He showed his teleportation ability or Colleen was recognized for her role in helping the Defenders, their safe house would likely be discovered rapidly. It would probably come down to protecting the food or protecting their people, yet their people really needed the food. There were kids.

“You. You look like somebody I've seen. That true?”

“I guess that sounds sorta right.”

“Huh? Do I know you?”

“Not to your knowledge.”

The man hovered impolitely close to his face. “You being smart with me?”

“I don't think 'smart' is the problem we're having here.”

He glanced around the surrounding buildings and dying sunlight lowering behind them. There were few members of law enforcement who didn't get trapped inside their precincts. Maybe they'd be lucky and Matt would begin his rounds of the city early. A blaring car horn off in the distance, some screaming, but no Daredevil.

Impatient, a guy trying to see into the car through the windshield stepped back and pointed a knife toward the car.

“Enough. Check the trunk.”

His arm was grabbed by the other thug in his space, and he was shoved toward the back of the car.

“Open it.”

“Do you often take things that don't belong to you?”

The guy off to the side being asked the question was spooked by a ninja standing just behind him all of a sudden.

“Holy fu-”

His expletive was cut short by a punch to the throat. He took a second hit to the face and went down immediately. Violence instigated, the morons started to attack him and the others in retaliation. Ward threw a fist in crow bar guy's face before he got a solid hold on his jacket.

Smoke billowed, filling up the street. The bandits already thrown into disarray and confusion panicked further. They stopped trying to attack them as they took notice of several ninjas partially obscured by the smoke and fading daylight. The ninjas were spread out and appeared mostly as shadowy figures watching them.

Effectively terrified, the criminals fled, abandoning their makeshift blockade. Ward was concerned, however, he had a hunch this wasn't a threat to him and his companions. He should be thinking this was Heart and they'd been discovered. Instead, he suspected it wasn't coincidence they only put in an appearance when he was accosted.

“Why do you insist on showing up like this?” he called out.

“Ward?” asked Colleen, curious for what he knew.

“I fancy a grand entrance,” Marcus's voice replied. “It's much more entertaining.”

Ward turned in the direction where the first ninja put in an appearance. Marcus was dressed entirely in black, including a black jacket. His light hair had less product in it than he'd used to play the role of businessman, but it still parted and fell into place just right on his head.

“For you maybe.”

“Don't tell me you don't like it. I won't believe you.”

“Nothing new there.”

He looked at the ninja who'd said that. The same one who initially dropped in to take care of their entrepreneurial criminals. Did he recognize those brown eyes?

The man walked toward them alongside Marcus, removing his head covering and tugging down the part concealing most of his face. It was his former trainer, Owen. He hadn't seen much of him since joining the Defenders to oppose Kuo and Heart. Matt mentioned a ninja who helped them find a way out of the warehouse where he'd been taken and tortured. He'd known it had to have been him.

“Owen!”

Relief their present situation felt safe again, he allowed his gratitude and feelings to show.

Ward strode to meet him and hugged him happily. He was Heart, but he'd been the single person aside from Marcus, who treated him like a person always. He didn't feel threatened by the man during their training sessions or the nights he was tasked to watch the house. Owen wasn't a perfect somebody, and he served the likes of Kuo. These past days living inside a city held hostage, he quickly learned to appreciate any and every individual lending a positive hand.

When he pulled away from the man to look into his face, Owen seemed surprised by the embrace and relatively pleased for it.

“I should apologize,” he began. “I wanted to help much sooner, but I didn't.”

Why was he here again?

“What are you doing here?” His eyes swept across more than a dozen men and women standing around in either ninja attire or street clothing. “What are they?”

His friends were looking around at them too, worried they were bad news.

“Defectors. Some don't like what's happening, some don't think they're on the winning side, others feel guilt or remorse for things they've had to do in service of Heart,” Owen said. “People looking for a second chance.”

Ward scanned the two men, curious. He owed it to the others as well to interrogate why they came to them now. Four days they let this city flounder and fall deeper into a declining society. The Defenders would end it if they could only find the head of the snake so to speak.

“Are you? He has to have loyalty and trust to bring someone in and you've seemed fine working for him before. What's changed?”

“The people here think Kuo is wrong,” Marcus said. “Owen and I are old friends so for me, when he told me he was leaving the cause and I should too, I reconsidered my current circumstances.”

“Morally wrong or logistically?” Nelson asked. “Because I'm feeling like that should matter.”

Colleen approached looking into Owen's eyes. Clearly having a hard time believing them or trusting.

“Are you really against them? You're with us?”

“I am. I give you my solemn promise, much as that may or may not be worth to you. My word is what I have until action can provide real proof.”

She considered him a lengthy moment.

“Okay. We should get back.”

“We heard what you did to the precinct of cult members,” said Owen. “We decided if you were willing to do that for the city, we could do something too.”

“The ones who wanna turn against the organization,” Karen inquired. “They're from New York?”

“Most of them. Born and raised, ma'am,” he answered. “We don't want to see our home burn down. It's not what we're about.”

/

_There are over 34,000 police officers in New York City. That's about 400 per precinct. Blending in should be easy as pie._

_The building was packed, full of the corrupt cops, and full of desperate, terrified citizens. Two days without power and without police presence. These cops went on patrols but they didn't stop to help anyone in need. They were searching for the Defenders._

_Three sets of eyes studied the building and front area, searching for any obvious Heart presence other than the dirty police officers. They didn't see anything to cause concern._

_This police precinct had put out the word the Defenders were responsible for everything. It was the move that finally got Danny to agree to let him go in. Misty Knight shared each station had a radio inside they used to communicate in cases of emergency where the cell towers were down._

_Knight went to her precinct when things first went to shit and found strategically placed explosives had blocked the cops inside. They were able to communicate briefly to someone she knew on the inside through a tiny gap in the wall and shouting. Their radio wasn't getting through to anyone. It appeared to be jammed. She reasoned someone could be jamming it by keeping the line open on their end so no one else could communicate._

_“Repeat the plan back to me.”_

_Ward opened the car door. “I know what I'm doing.”_

_Misty stared him down. “The plan, Ward, or I go in your place.”_

_“Where you'll be instantly recognized as collaborator to the Defenders. Great plan.”_

_“For all we know, they're looking for you too!”_

_He tugged at the collar of the uniform even though the discomfort was internal. “My face isn't pasted on the sides of big trucks. So we're going with my face.”_

_“Got anything to say, Danny?” she asked, glancing into the backseat._

_“Nope. Ward knows what he's doing.”_

_She sighed, far from convinced. “So he says.”_

_He stepped out of the car. “Relax. I'll be gone fifteen minutes tops. Should be easy, right?”_

_“If you can't find the radio or get to it without risking yourself, just leave.”_

_“Yes, chief.”_

_Misty fidgeted pointedly with her watch until the timer setting was on. “Fifteen minutes or we're coming to get you out.”_

_Ignoring her, he closed the door and headed down the block. Wait. He slowed and tried to walk more casually, like a cop might on patrol. It would make him look natural, or so he hoped._

_Ward entered the precinct's front doors and didn't draw any attention. It was incredibly chaotic with officers everywhere trying to field the complaints and panic of the people. He wondered how long they would bother pretending to care about the citizens before they revealed their true nature as members of an insane group devoted to destroying the old world._

_He rolled up his shirt sleeve, glancing at the map drawn in black marker. To the best of her ability, Misty mapped out the blueprint of this station that she retrieved from the library on his arm. They were hoping no modifications had been made to the building as they'd retrieved the information in a bit of a hurry._

_Passing by a room full of desks, he moved into a quieter hallway. He walked past interrogation rooms where inside at least two of them, he could hear sounds of someone being hurt. Ward swallowed his nerves, trying to appear unaffected by the disturbing noises._

_Two officers walked by, looking at him briefly as they did. No sign of suspicion or interest. He sped up, alone again, and slowed upon reaching the designated door according to the diagram on his arm. Rolling his sleeve back down, he looked both ways and opened the door a couple inches._

_The room was dark and empty. He flipped the light switch before recalling there was no power. Muttering that he was an idiot, he removed the flashlight off his belt and went in._

_There was a window on his right, sunlight blocked out by a black cloth. He removed it and the room immediately had a lot more light. Turning off the flashlight, he returned it to his belt and walked across the short distance to the table on the other side. He'd found the radio._

_The button for speaking was held down by a paperweight. He checked his back, listening for anyone approaching. When he heard nothing, he removed the weight and pressed it down himself._

_“Can anyone hear me? Is anyone receiving this?”_

_He let go and listened hopefully. Static. Ward reached forward to try a second time when someone responded to his request._

_“This is precinct 12. Who do we have calling?” a man asked._

_Another sent through a message right after, a woman._

_“This is the 27th precinct. Do you have a status update?”_

_Still a third came through._

_“65th here. What the hell is going on out there? Can you tell us what happened? Is it terrorists?”_

_“14 checking in. Safe to say we're all here listening. Everybody maintain radio silence so we can hear our caller. If you're still out there, go on, son.”_

_He keyed the microphone. “I'm calling from inside precinct 53. They're the reason you haven't been able to communicate using the radio. Every cop in here is a member of a cult-like organization working for the people responsible for the assault on New York. They're trying to erase the world we know to make a new world. I know it sounds crazy but it's the truth.”_

_Releasing the button, he keyed it to question, “With me so far?”_

_Seconds of silence except for static, and then a man's voice said, “Don't have much choice but to trust you at this point I think. We're listening.”_

_Ward glanced at the doorway again before sliding into the chair in front of the radio, reaching for the transmission button._

_“They've barricaded the exits to the city. Nobody is allowed to leave and the National Guard won't come in until they can be sure innocent lives won't be lost because of it. Organized criminals and not have joined forces with them because they think they've been given power. I know these people. They'll kill them as soon as convenient. We believe the power outage was done by a cyber hack. The illness that spread through the city recently? That was these people too. They call themselves Heart. They used to call themselves the Hand. The Defenders are not behind any of this. If you've heard that, it's a lie.”_

_He lifted his hand. The more he talked, the crazier it all seemed. He knew firsthand everything they were capable of and were still capable of. It was insanity but it was real._

_“We're trapped where we are,” a woman's voice said through the speaker. “We're trying to remove the blockage but it's slow progress and frankly, impossible. We were hoping rescue would come. If this is everybody... Is there anyone out there who can do something?”_

_“I see the Defenders trying to make things better out there every day,” he informed them. “Nobody can get near a police station without risking getting killed. Kuo Abt has made sure of that. He's the leader of Heart. He runs a company called Obaktu Enterprises, except this is a front for the terrorists.”_

_“How do you know all this, son?”_

_His hand withdrew from the button and then clicked it right away, finding his words to hopefully inspire._

_“Anybody who hears this, who can deliver a message out maybe. The city could sure use your help. The Defenders fight to save the city and they count on you too. Do your part, whoever you might be. Police, firefighters, doctors, nurses, military, anybody who wants to protect their home. Kuo Abt and Obaktu Enterprises are responsible.”_

_The door slammed open, an angry cop glaring at him. “It is us! In here!”_

_Urgently he kept his hand pressed to the button and continued transmitting as long as he could._

_“Help sick people, protect citizens, whatever you can do!”_

_Hands grabbed him and tried to separate his hand from the button but he adamantly stood rigid. Two more officers appeared in the doorway and while one of them approached to physically remove him, the other drew his firearm. Ward struggled against the two trying to pull him apart from the radio._

_“Step away from the radio or I will shoot you!” the officer commanded, voice raised._

_“Remember! 53rd precinct are cult members!” He turned his words to the officer prying roughly at his fixed arm. “It's too late. You've failed your masked boss. Everybody knows you're dirty now!”_

_A fourth man entered the room wearing a suit and long coat. “I know you. You're the businessman Kuo warned us about. He'll reward us for keeping you safe until all of this is over.”_

_“I don't think so!” he spat. “I'm not helping him. Get off me!”_

_His arm was successfully pulled free of the button and yanked behind his back. The two managed to bend him onto the table, arms secured behind him. One of them reached for handcuffs, while the other was slipping the gun from the holster._

_A glance over his shoulder told him the officer with the gun was putting it away. Well, this ended about how he thought it might. Good thing he set a time limit._

_The metal barely brushed the skin of his wrist before yelling and sounds of violence were heard. Pausing from their handcuff attempt, they drew him upright so they could turn toward the doorway. The detective wasn't so bright and tried to use him for bargaining._

_“Put a gun to his head. Do it!”_

_An officer crumpled to the floor just outside the doorway, top of his head and sprawled arms showing. Misty Knight appeared in sight, looking very offended. She sized up the situation._

_“You people are a disgrace.”_

_The detective recognized her. “Knight!”_

_She glanced down the hallway and Danny skidded to a stop in full view of them shortly afterward. They exchanged a look with each other and then proceeded to beat the crap out of the room full of cops. Nobody shot him in the head, empty threat as it was, and he didn't have a scratch on him._

_Coming over to him and watching him stoop to retrieve his confiscated handgun, Danny shook his head._

_“Your place is in the business world.”_

_He smiled a little. “Probably. But for now, I make up for letting them into Rand. I just potentially told the whole city it's their fight. I'm not about to sit it out.”_

_Ward patted him on the back and added with a grin, “I'm team Defender.”_

/

Their new allies were not welcomed with open arms. Luke insisted he was staying up all night to keep an eye on them, and Jessica was right there with him. Claire never warmed to the idea either.

Ward knew they had to take the chance. They could use the help and besides, the visitor that appeared outside the apartment proved their hiding spot was no longer hidden. It was reasonable to think one of the supposed traitors informed on the location, but none of them had left the apartment building in the hour since they came to the safe house.

Knight insisted they be searched soon as she saw them, and nothing like a radio was found, so no way to communicate a message without leaving. Yet here the masked man and his soldiers stood, literally having buzzed the apartment to ask to speak to Ward. Danny, Matt, and Colleen accompanied him downstairs for the conversation.

He was wearing a different mask from the description Danny laid out to him after sharing about the parking garage encounter. This mask was more a silver color from the gray of the uniforms, fitted over his entire face, and he had a matching assault vest to go with it. Having the Iron Fist to go up against was likely the reason for the change in attire.

At first only Colleen stepped out the door to declare Danny wasn't coming close enough to be affected and lose his power. He assured them his body was temporarily being prevented from releasing the chemicals which created the suppressant in those with irregular genes.

“Think of it sort of like an allergy medicine, if you could give it to the problem instead of the person affected. I will be gone long before it wears off. Now hear what I have to say.”

Matt remained inside the building, out of sight. He would get involved should anything go wrong.

The visitor removed his mask and covering when the three of them were outside, warily monitoring any sudden danger from the gathered soldiers. They didn't appear to be carrying guns. Danny was quick to remind them of the dangerous blades they carried.

It was the man from his office, from the motel. The doctor with an import/export business working for Heart. Of course he wasn't just that. In his defense, the bookish, bumbling man with glasses that came to his office once, was clearly a cover identity put on display for people. When he acted much differently at the motel, he should have put it together. How could he not realize this man's dual identity?

“Thomas Oberman,” he said aloud. “I don't know how I didn't figure it out earlier.”

He regarded him genially. “You can hardly be faulted. You've had to deal with more than anyone should ever.”

His attention shifted to Danny. “Mr. Rand. How has being the Iron Fist treated you? Assured you're doing the right thing?”

“What do you want?” he demanded.

The polite demeanor didn't falter.

“I suggested to you once that failure to heed the signs would become your downfall and the city thereafter.”

“Yeah. And you were wrong. We're going to beat you and this city will be as it was. Too many people care about it.”

Dr. Oberman hummed a thoughtfully intrigued sound, looking at Ward.

“You've managed to inspire the masses, Mr. Meachum. Your call for everyone to help the Defenders defend their own home spread fast and was well received. Criminals are finding it rather more difficult to simply do as they please. The anonymous businessman who risked his life to get people to save themselves is a popular story during this crisis. But I'm getting off topic.”

His eyes returned to Danny. “I'm seeing signs that indicate this city's time hasn't come. The new world is no longer an option, for now.”

Colleen frowned. “You're saying you still think it's going to happen? That's insane.”

A smile for her. “As things stand, a new world is an eventuality, not a question.”

He stepped toward Ward and stopped when everybody got a whole lot more tense by it. Changing his mind, he remained where he was, gaze drifting upward to look at the windows of the apartment complex.

“There will be a duel tomorrow between opponents from the opposing sides, no other option will be granted. The two who brought the sides into conflict with each other. My allegiance and that of my kind is offered to the sole survivor of the fight.”

Easily angered, Danny snapped, “Why would we trust you or want your people's help? After everything you've done?”

“If you have doubts, why don't you just leave?” Colleen tried.

Dr. Oberman looked at him. “The shipyard where the boat came in. Kuo has already agreed in light of some of his most trusted betraying him. He will wait for you there. Noon. While there is still plenty of sunlight. I trust we will not be disturbed.”

Comprehension of who the opponent on their side was meant to be dawned on them. “Wait. Ward? You can't be serious! Hey!”

Ward watched the man put his mask back on and leave with his people in multiple cars. A duel to the death? He didn't think there would be a time where he could make up for his mistakes. This was it. Maybe. He'd definitely be open to other ideas.

Lacking an enemy to take out his frustrations, Danny turned on him.

“You will _not_ battle Kuo to the death!”

Instantly annoyed to be yelled at, he retorted, “Don't tell me what to do.”

His hand slid inside his jacket, feeling the metal case for reassurance. This was the unspoken thought secreted away in the back of his mind for days. That he would have to put a stop to Kuo himself, face to face. Was this the price he paid for his freedom?


	34. Chapter 33: Honor

**_“What do I care for honor?”_ **   
**_-Madame Gao_ **

There wasn't a moment he believed a duel between Ward and Kuo would actually happen. The combatants were woefully unbalanced and it wasn't the former's place to be picking fights. However, they spent the night telling Ward he couldn't go and it backfired spectacularly. Desperate, he resorted to asking Patterson to change his mind and here they were.

“You owe me nothing. I owe you. Nevertheless, I would like to ask you not to go meet Kuo.”

Ward stared at the other man, searching him for clues as to why he was asking this. Nobody wanted him to do it and to Danny, it seemed to be convincing him he had to. Leaning into the kitchen counter, Ward glanced at Micro, his wife and children, sitting beside Nina, her husband, and their children at the table. They'd paused in their eating to eavesdrop as soon as the conversation started, and quickly resumed eating when they were discovered.

Sighing, he answered before his audience. Colleen was there, determined they meet Kuo so she could end him. Matt was surely listening in the other room while he and Claire sat around with Castle, a man on reluctant bed rest, and Owen stood near the two families chewing on some bread. Jessica, Luke, and the assortment of former Heart members in the connecting apartment were the only ones _not_ listening.

He'd have preferred a private conversation but in their present situation, they didn't have much choice. Maybe they should take it into the hallway. There seemed to be little point. Ward wasn't interested in logic.

“Dr. Oberman said me and Kuo fight or it's off. His mercenary soldiers are the ones blockading the perimeter of the city. We remove them from the picture and Heart is the only real problem remaining. Without their leader... We can end this in a single fight.”

“An impossible fight,” Colleen mentioned. “Look, I get why you feel you have to do this. I've been there. You feel like if you're not the one who stops him because you helped him, everything can't be made right again.”

“Good, so you understand why I'll go.”

Danny glared at Patterson, sending the message with his anger to do something. His request only seemed to irritate Ward and that wasn't useful. The man went from accepting the British man's presence to expressively hating it. He didn't trust or like Marcus Patterson either, but he spent a lot of time with Ward over the past months and on the surface appeared to care something for his former charge.

“Your lips look so lonely...”

He frowned, confused. Where was the man going with this?

“Would they like to meet mine?”

Ward shared his confusion. “What?”

Lips pressed to his, kissing him. Danny stared daggers at the sight. What the hell.

Patterson pulled away from him, squeezing his shoulder and then releasing. The kissed was staring with his mouth hung slightly ajar. He was baffled and speechless.

Speechless except for a quiet, “Oh.”

“Does he love him, Daddy?”

Nina's husband shushed the child.

Gathering his wits, he shouted after the man to stop doing that. Stop? When did he start?

/

The majority of their guests slept soundly that night, but he was awake for most of the duration. He could sense the tension and anxiety among some of the people gathered. Although Ward slept on the blankets laid out as a bed beside his own, since the siege began, he didn't rely on his comfort to get him to sleep anymore. He could sleep without it.

Might be the other people surrounding them were comfort enough, giving him a sense of security. Danny imagined the man was simply growing past it. He was becoming braver and recovering from the damage inflicted so callously.

It should make him happy. Part of him was, another part felt lonely, and still another wondered if he relied on the comforting embrace more than he'd realized. He fell asleep staring at the back of Ward's head, vowing repeatedly in his mind that tomorrow would end the terrorized city.

/

On schedule, they arrived shortly prior to noon. Kuo awaited them with many of his loyalists on either side of him. Along the waterfront, Dr. Oberman's soldiers in gray were disembarking off a large ship carrying assault rifles. This could easily be a trap to get their opposition into one place and take them out.

“I'm disappointed you've decided to betray the genesis of a new world,” said Kuo by way of greeting his presently dubious partner.

“Kingdoms fall and kingdoms rise,” the German doctor replied simply. “Some never quite find their footing.”

It wasn't a trap. Unlike Kuo, Oberman appeared to place genuine value on honesty and honor. He even assured them he'd taken a dosage prior to leaving the ship. Kuo didn't seem surprised. Actually, it seemed to Danny like he was paying attention with interest until he heard those words. Only then did he feel okay to get on with things.

A curious thing. Did he risk losing the immortality the black substance gave him around this man's power? If that was the case, it was a shame Dr. Oberman wasn't on their side.

“It was a chemical treatment, but there's an important spiritual foundation I believe in,” Kuo explained, turning his back to the Cerberus leader to face Ward. “The substance of the Undying allows us what we desire psychologically to be able to do.”

He surveyed the dozens of armed soldiers ready to open fire should they interfere with the duel. This was a moment to show restraint and trust his friend, the only family he had. Was it supposed to be this hard to trust someone?

“Yours is to be safe, to escape,” the Heart leader went on, filling the silence. “So why have you come to die?”

Ward shook his head. “I've come to win.”

Danny smiled. That sounded a lot like something he would say.

“To be clear, Ward Meachum, you didn't fail your father. Your father deeply failed _you_.”

This man had a special skill to appear gracious while on the precipice of a fight to the death, with the very same person he was offering it to. He twisted words and meanings adeptly.

He was proud of Ward for never being tempted into allegiance. There had to have been times when giving in and obeying would have instantly made his life better and he didn't do it. The second an opportunity to make a different choice presented, he reached out.

As his family, he would offer him a choice to abandon the duel. If he didn't take the chance, he'd back off. Ward earned his freedom to choose.

/

“Are you ready?” inquired Dr. Oberman.

Ward stood uncertainly, knowing this was ludicrous and had every chance of ending with him dead. In fact, it was the likelier outcome. Kuo was an extraordinarily skilled and disciplined fighter. He would have to enter the fight believing he would win. Losing wasn't an option. He was supposed to live so he could make his life something helping other people. If he was dead, it would amount to nothing.

He stepped forward, breathing in and out slowly. _Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid._

“You can't fight him,” Danny said, moving to block his way.

“We're being given a chance to stop this thing in its tracks,” he reminded. “I have to try.”

“No, Ward, don't,” Colleen said to side with her boyfriend, or well, former boyfriend. “He'll kill you and it will be easy for him.”

She was right. He was on a whole other level of an opponent. His fingers slid inside his pant pocket for reassurance. Ward knew Kuo well enough by now. He would want to toy with him, make him suffer for declining his offer to lead in the new world.

The first time they met, the man calling himself Bakuto used and discarded him as simply as Harold did. He'd believed then he'd made a horrible mistake and that belief never changed. It was pride and hubris which led him to try turning Ward into his own personal disciple and partner. After everything the man did to him, he would show him he wouldn't be defeated, even if he was beaten.

He fought to limit the trembling. He didn't want to die. This was bigger than him. People were counting on him to win. He would do everything he could to live. Fighting this fight was part of that self-promise, as much as it might seem to be illogical and to certain death.

Kuo smirked. “Really? Have you learned so little?”

“Oh I learned plenty.”

His smile shifted to something more akin to interest and bemusement. “Show me.”

Ward distanced himself from the others, circling his enemy while the man did it. What the hell was he doing? Panic threatened to seize hold. He wasn't a hero. He couldn't protect himself. What did he think he could do?

Danny's words echoed in his mind to focus on breathing, to find what was worth the effort. Life. It was simple and enormous. His eyes slid closed, knowing it would take every skill he adopted from Owen, every advice he sought to impart. Actions were done by people who did them. Thoughts wouldn't matter unless will power turned those thoughts into reality.

When he opened his eyes, Kuo had set aside his sword and was drawing near. He was curious why Ward would try to take him on in battle. Waiting. Waiting for him to make the first move.

His fingers danced on top of his pocket. _Not too soon…_

He slid into combat stance, fists raising. Closing the distance, he threw a punch. His arm was knocked aside. He tried two more, blocked. A heavy gaze met his eyes, and then his opponent switched to offense.

Ward used his forearms to block the first but the second slammed into his chest. Stumbling back, Kuo matched his steps and swept his legs out from under him. He fell to the ground and was only starting to sit up when a kick caught him in the side of the head.

Flopping over, a foot jammed into his back and he grunted in pain. He was kicked in the side. Forcing himself to scramble to his feet to avoid receiving further kicks, he spun about to face his enemy. The man stood silently, arms folded behind his back, waiting.

Skill alone wouldn't take this guy. One thing he could thank his father for was giving him the experience of taking hits. He was going to need it if he hoped to get close enough.

They closed the distance on each other.

/

_“The element of surprise is essential. Avoid every hit you can, and absorb every hit you are able.”_

_Tiredly, Ward slid into combat stance. He was a businessman. This was absurd. When would he ever need to use any of this? He'd be dead long before this would benefit him._

_“You will have hours, a few weeks of training. He has lived for much longer, studied and perfected techniques. He has been resurrected with the black substance. This grants him enhanced durability and strength. He will have all of these things, and you will still have what it takes to defeat him.”_

_He parried a blow and swung a fist at an arc, twisting his body around to follow-through. Owen took the hit and spin-kicked him into the floor. Groaning, he struggled to his feet. The training was supposed to make him stronger, but it always ended with him exhausted and bruised instead. His dad hurt him and now Heart was putting him through this fresh hell._

_“Come on!” his trainer yelled when he didn't get up fast enough. “What is your reason for fighting? What's the point in winning?”_

/

Kuo put him to the ground, clearly reveling in the ease at which he was applying the pain. The circling resumed before he broke it to engage with a hand into his chest. Ward fell to one knee, grimacing and clutching the spot. Felt like his very heart organ had been punctured. He gathered air and pushed through the pain, rising to stand upright.

“You stopped your training after a couple weeks. You have only the most basic techniques at your disposal. This battle cannot be won by someone like you.”

“He didn't just teach me basics. He taught me how to fight _you_.”

A mere foot away, his opponent lashed out in response. He used a palm to block the foot and then the fist he attempted to follow up with. Pushing the hand away from him, he shoved his entire body forward. Uncertain which part of him would be the immediate threat, he managed to twist and jab an elbow into his stomach.

He didn't stop and extended the attack by drawing the elbow up, slamming the hard bone beneath his chin. Kuo flipped his body through the air to put distance between them. His eyes were narrow and irritated he'd been touched at all, hand rubbing his jaw.

/

_“Assume your enemy will be stronger than you.”_

_He wheezed, straining to breathe right. Dragging himself onto his knees, he stared at his trainer._

_“I can't fight, okay? I can't do it.”_

_“But you can.” Owen told him. “I always tell myself, win in my mind, and I've already won out there.”_

_“That's moronic,” he said. “What if you don't?”_

_Ward got himself standing, but he was wobbly. The man did not go easy on him ever. Must be a Heart thing. No matter what this guy taught him, it had to be under Kuo's guidance. An elaborate trick. And if it wasn't?_

_“But you already have. You've convinced yourself of your victory. It belongs to you now.”_

_He stared, pressing fingers to a throbbing cheek. Usually he avoided the face. It was an accidental slip. And then he understood._

_It didn't matter what actually happened, if he actually won. If he thought he won, he still won, whatever the end result. Which meant if Ward could just convince himself he was strong and could get better, maybe he could and maybe one day he'd stand a chance of freedom away from Kuo and his dad._

_Belief was half the battle, and could be made into the whole thing. Maybe. Now to convince himself to believe the philosophy when it mattered was a different concept altogether..._

/

“You can't win this fight.”

Ward knocked away the hand grabbing his jacket. “I've already won.”

Amusement. “I could kill you now if I wanted. Snap your neck. Perhaps break your back. But I'd like you to see what a mistake it was to stand against me.”

“So you'll draw it out, cause as much pain and damage as you can without killing me. Then you'll finish me.”

“An accurate conclusion.”

An arm caught him in the throat and choking, it left him vulnerable for the shoe that smacked him in the forehead. He fell on his rear and rolled upright quick. It didn't save him from the knuckles driving into his side.

Doubling over, he surged forward when Kuo came close to take advantage of his vulnerable state. Ward jammed his fist into his throat and then swung an elbow around to smack against a cheek.

They broke apart, taking a breather and sizing one another up.

“Why don't you use your power?” Kuo suddenly queried, studying his distressed state. “I saw how you could handle your teleportation ability. It was admirable.”

“It wouldn't be honorable,” he lied. “Isn't that what you tell your people you are?”

“Loyalty is most important, Ward. Loyalty.”

The man was striding closer, seeking an easy attack. He just had to get him mad to keep him in his proximity long enough to do it. Kuo was so quick and freaking acrobatic with his movements, opportunity hadn't yet presented and he was losing steam.

“I would think it was lies,” proposed Ward, goading. “Like how you introduced yourself to me for the first time, proposed a deal, made me do whatever you wanted, and then abandoned me once you had what you wanted. So like Harold.”

A wide smile. “You never would have accepted my offer if you hadn't literally been strapped down and helpless. It was somewhat endearing how you tried to protect your sister. Pointless, but endearing. She was never going to be spared because she makes her own choices too.”

“ _That_ is what I think you hate most,” he declared. “Exactly like Harold. Your people making choices for themselves. You want control, power. It's all you care about.”

The smile dropped. Ah, there he had it. Indignant reaction, desire to punish for his words. He really didn't like being shown a lack of respect.

“Do not compare me with the likes of Harold Meachum.”

“Why? You both made me feel the same way. Like I wasn't a person. I was a thing to command and manipulate so you could get what you wanted.”

_Careful._ He was becoming emotional and he had to stay focused. Ward recalled his reason for anything and gripped it tight.

“You brought me low, made me think I had nothing to lose anymore. I almost gave up. But I know now what I have to do. I have to live. Others want me to and so I'll live for others. That's why I've won. You can't take it from me.”

Frowning, Kuo closed the last few feet in between them. “Oh how sad, because I'm going to take it from you.”

The fist battered his face with astonishing speed. He was hit in the stomach and side, and arms wrapped around his body tight. An arm slipped onto his throat, pressing down, cutting off his air. His backside was pressed into Kuo's front, nice and close. He dug his fingers into his pant pocket but had to pause when he almost blacked out, his assailant temporarily applying excess pressure.

He lightened the press to ensure Ward was listening.

“Your friends will watch you die and then they will die. I'll have the doctor put an end to them. This was all a delusional attempt for you to try and be worthy. You would have become so with me. With them, they led you to ruin.”

/

_“The Hand existed a long time. They brought civilizations to ruin just so they could thrive and continue on as they had always gone on. Kuo fancies himself clever and wise. His attraction to the poetry of hubris toppling a civilization such as Rome, will defeat him.”_

_Ward met the eyes of the man beneath him, his hands struggling to keep him held to the floor. A first time for him gaining advantage over his trainer._

_“I don't know what you're talking about.”_

_“Hubris, Ward. It's his great weakness. He always thinks he's right. He leaves no room for wrong.”_

_Owen kneed him in the gut and reversed their positions to keep him to the floor now._

_“He'll expect to win because his beliefs are stronger. Immortality has the flaw of setting in your ways.”_

_Frustrated, he tried to unpin the hands pushing him hard into the ground._

_“I can't outthink someone trying to murder me!”_

_“Hold a belief more powerful than his and nothing can defeat you. Envision it in your mind as something concrete, possible, certain.”_

_His eyes narrowed onto the body before him. There were weak points. Hit any one of them with enough force and he wouldn't be trapped on the ground. He squirmed the fingers on his left hand, continuing to pry desperately at the muscular arm crushing his shoulder. Distraction so his right arm could jab up against his ear._

_Owen's weight lessened from the pain his hit must have caused. He kicked with his legs, knocking the man off him. He scrambled backward and got to his feet. Their eyes met and the other man smiled approvingly._

/

The tips of his fingers jostled the syringe. This one had a cap on to prevent accidentally stabbing himself through his pocket. He'd have to be quick.

He sought to distract by speaking.

“You go in counting yourself dead at the outset. That's what Heart was supposed to drill into me for combat.”

Kuo's arm tightened momentarily, causing him to gag, but he soon relieved the pressure slightly to hear him out.

“That's wrong though,” he said. “Resolution to life and living is how you should go into battle. Living is the most important thing and you have to want it more than the other person. For me, I want to live so I can live for others.”

His enemy leaned in, saying, “Go in counting yourself dead from the outset, yes. But you must remember you have to win before you die. Speed of a take-down so you don't waste energy perhaps. You've failed on both counts to learn the lessons.”

Scowling, he disagreed. “If I don't live, I can't make up for the things I've done. How we touch the lives around us, that's humanity. Making a conscious choice to care and do something if we can, that's goodness. I want to be that.”

A chuckle in his ear. “Caring? This is your grand revelation after all I tried to stimulate and mature in you?”

“I wouldn't expect you to understand living. It's the thing you've been pretending to do for who knows how long.”

He managed to thumb the cap off of the needle. “I want to live more than your conviction of righteousness.”

The needle pierced his neck and he emptied the syringe.

Kuo let him go, stumbling backward and yanking the object out of his neck. He stared at the item in his hand, shocked and confused. The confusion turned to rage when he realized what it was and what it had done.

His posture straightened, hands folding behind his back. He was taking the injection fairly well. That would be bad for him. He glanced down toward the second dose holstered to his ankle. He'd probably need it.

Blinking, the man's eyes shut and his head lowered. He shook it as though trying to clear his mind through physical motion. He glared at him, equal parts impressed and annoyed.

“A rich dose of the doctor's suppressant, is it?”

“A high concentrated dose of the thing you used to make people sick,” he confirmed. “I had a friend at Rand make it for me.”

Gathering himself, he resumed his casual stance, but there was sweat on his brow. On close examination, he was trembling, body swaying. A dose of that magnitude could put someone with power in a coma, but he was still standing. That resurrection substance was powerful stuff.

“As a regular man, I'm still better than you.”

Ward attempted to prepare when Kuo strode rapidly forward, coming for him. He broke into a run and then did a front flip just before reaching him, decking him in the face with a solid kick. _Ow..._

He tried to put space between them but his opponent responded by flipping sideways through the air. His agility was ridiculous and he couldn't measure up. A hand hit the front of his shoulder, bringing the pain, and he stilled long enough to grip the webbing between his thumb and index finger.

Applying pressure on the bone with the fingered grip, he fell to a knee, face twisting in agony. Such a small spot and it hurt like hell. He managed to pry the hand away and tried to reach for his ankle.

Kuo struck him in the face with his elbow and kicked his stomach, knocking him to the ground. He climbed on top, holding him down by straddling his waist and squeezing his throat with one hand. The other hand raised in the air toward his waiting people.

“Alex, sword.”

The ninja hurriedly picked up his master's sword, removed the sheath, and threw it to him. He heard Danny's angered shout in opposition for it and Colleen yelled unfairness. Technically he used a weapon first. Karmic retribution he be delivered his death by weapon.

Catching it effortlessly by the handle, he twirled it in his grip and raised it above his head. Loosening the grasp on his neck and moving the hand to hold him down by the shoulder instead, he met his eyes.

“Last words?”

/

_He was close to blacking out, eyes seeing spots. Owen leaned into his face, sympathetic and unrelenting all at once. His hands fell limply to his sides, knowing he couldn't fight him off._

_“If you die, what will happen next?”_

/

“Your world will be or it won't,” Ward said. “I believe it will be the latter. People don't much like change.”

The sword drove downward and his hands caught the other man's arms, struggling as his alarmed gaze watched it hover dangerously close to his chest. He was aiming for his heart, which would make it quick and poetic. It was difficult to be thankful he'd opted to cease drawing out his death of increasing pain for an immediate one. He couldn't die. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

His strength was failing, the sword drawing closer. It was practically touching his t-shirt, hazardously near to his rapidly beating heart. He summoned his strength to push back a little, gaining a few inches. Kuo held the advantageous position though, and it was easier for him to maintain pressure to lower it into him, gravity as his aid. Once his muscle gave out, he'd die.

He switched his gaze to his ankle and bent his knee to bring the leg closer. It was too far away. Pinned like this, he'd need Kuo to shift his weight forward and he'd need to not have a sword stabbing him in the heart.

Forward. Forward... He could do that.

Ward concentrated all of his energy to pulling Kuo's arms higher up on him, and let go. It probably seemed like he was trying to pull the threat away and failed. Whatever his enemy might have thought, he took the advantage and slid the sword into the flesh of his left shoulder.

He screamed in agony. He'd imagined getting stabbed would hurt but fuck did it hurt. Several inches had to be in him by now. All he could think about was the excruciating pain.

“Ward!”

The call triggered memory of his plan. He had to live. He had to get the serum into Kuo to do that.

Ward pitched forward, accidentally sinking the sword in deeper. He fell flat on his back again. Oh God...

Determining to do the job properly, Kuo pulled the blade out and drew back on his heels to watch him. His hand closed over the wound, soaking in seconds. He had to do it.

Crying out, he squirmed and shifted his hurting shoulder inward automatically. _Focus!_

There wasn't time to sob and deal with how painful it was to be stabbed with a freaking sword. His opponent was repositioning the blade, leaning forward to get it right this time. Now or never.

He dragged his leg back up and fought through the agony it caused to bend to the side, reaching to his ankle. His bloody fingers slipped on the smooth surface of the syringe. He wiped them on his pant leg and reached beneath the clothing again.

Firmly in hand, he said to his would-be murderer, “I told you you'd be sorry if you didn't leave me alone.”

“Goodbye, Ward.”

Ward jammed the needle into his side and injected the fluid into him. The other man reacted accordingly, pulling it out immediately and cringing. He tossed aside the syringe and sword to clutch at his head. It was nice to see him in obvious pain for once.

Keeping his left hand over his wound yet, he balled his right into a fist. Gathering as much momentum as he could from his position, he threw the arm forward, punching hard and quick into Kuo's temple. The hit successfully knocked him off and Ward dragged himself backward.

His opponent remained on his knees, groaning and fighting to overcome the effects of the injections. His genes were “correcting” as it were, incredible endurance and strength ebbing. He was becoming a regular man and worse, a weakening man, sick like the people he'd poisoned.

That he remained conscious was stunning. Biting through the pain, he wanted his win to be clear.

“My life, there's wrong,” he said to the man, remembering the words he'd been forced to memorize and repeat like an obedient dog, and revising them. “But I'm in control. I am not alone. I'll never be alone, and I'll never need you.”

To say he was surprised when Kuo smiled would be an understatement.

“Look at that...” he murmured.

Their eyes locked and something resembling humility and outward pride shone in his gaze.

“You learned to be more than defiant. No one can tell you what to do. You have the strength now to act on your beliefs.”

“That's right,” he affirmed. “And they're not like yours. I'm not killing you. You're done though. You're defeated.”

He worried the man wasn't going to give in. How much more damage could he do in that condition? Why didn't it feel finished?

“This is a good day,” said Kuo.

Gaping as the man ran away, his followers ran with him. The guns of the soldiers in gray lowered. Dr. Oberman removed his mask from where it hung on his belt.

“It was to the death and you didn't kill him. I'm sorry.”

Damn semantics. Mask on, the Watch Dog leader led his men away from the area too. They were moving in the same direction Kuo fled. Where was he going? Did he have more to his plan to put into effect? Wonderful.

Ward sank to his knees, the pain nearly intolerable. It was done for him. He won his battle. Owen wasn't completely full of shit.

Hands helped him fall backward and he let them, finding Claire peering down at him in concern. She eased his sweatshirt off with Danny's help and bunched it. He removed his hand and she put it to the bleeding wound, applying pressure.

Grimacing, he met Danny's frowning stare.

“Go get him, Danny. Stop the bastard.”

“You won't be able to heal because you were carrying the serum.”

He did his best to shrug. “I don't heal fast enough to help me out here anyhow.”

“This will help with the pain.”

He lifted his gaze to Owen, stooping next to Claire and opening his hand. There were a few pills on his palm and the nurse took them, giving them to him without question. She must recognize them so he figured they were legitimately pain killers and swallowed them dry.

“If you continue to be this prone to injury,” she said. “Count your lucky stars you can heal.”

Marcus came into view and jostled Danny out of the way, sitting on the ground to tug him into his arms. He didn't bother fighting, although Danny had the look of somebody who was thinking about fighting it. The nonsensical man apparently wanted to protect him of his own accord now. A strong, stubborn asshole with a good heart. Who would have believed it?

“We'll stay with him,” promised Owen. “Go and do what you have to.”

The former Heart member didn't have to say anything more. They were all determined to finish this and put an end to Kuo's threat. Dedication to protect the city drove them to give chase.

Ward watched them race off, thinking he didn't want to sit this one out. He had to see the end. He had to be sure it was truly and finally over. It was the only way to be free of everything Kuo did these past months.


	35. Chapter 34: Destined for Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this was a TV show, this chapter would be part one of a two part finale or the second to last episode of the season.

**_“A child...touched by fire...delivered from heaven to become the greatest warrior, destined for victory.”_ **   
**_-Lei Kung_ **

They tracked Kuo to a skyscraper a few blocks away. Obaktu Enterprises was printed across the front of the building in big lettering. The import/export business never appeared to be anything other than what it claimed to be in the months following its inception. Today, the gray uniformed soldiers standing around in the lobby told them now it would be different.

Dr. Oberman was pacing in the lobby, apparently waiting for them to catch up. He carried his staff in one hand, twirling it about in preparation when he spotted them. While he was putting on his mask, Danny noticed his people were unfairly wielding guns.

From the building across the street, cartel members came through the doors carrying an assortment of weaponry, including guns. Feeling there couldn't be overkill against New York's Defenders, Heart members emerged from every direction, some in ninja garb, others in regular clothing. They intended to use their bodies as weapons, so no guns.

“At least we don't have the mob or anybody else joining in,” Colleen said, trying for optimism.

Danny studied their dilemma, determined to beat every last one of them if they had to. The goal was a single man in particular, and he was weakened. Everybody else was just in the way.

“Find Kuo. He's the priority. We take care of him and the rest falls apart.”

“Or so we hope,” Jessica supplied unhelpfully, and asked, “Got ideas on how we don't wind up shot?”

Luke balled his hands into fists. “Cerberus is holding their ground inside Obaktu. Kuo's probably in there. Those guys are also gonna be our biggest issue.”

“We can't go in straight,” Matt advised, removing his stick for the battle ahead. “We'll get shot or cornered that way. So let's deal with these guys out here first.”

He nodded in agreement. “Colleen and I will deal with Kuo's people. The rest of you work on the cartel. Get those guns out of play, and watch out for any who might have powers.”

Jessica groaned. “This is gonna be a long-ass day.”

Matt smiled lightly. “That's the spirit.”

“Uh..guys?”

Everyone looked to Colleen before following her worried gaze. Oberman wasn't holding ground anymore. Well, he was, remaining inside by himself. But the two dozen soldiers with him were exiting the front doors and lining up. They were planning to spray bullets where they stood out in the open street. Not cool.

Uneasy, the private detective stared at the immediate threat. “Do we run?”

People were gathering on the street, numbers increasing rather quickly. He squinted in their direction, wondering what the heck they were thinking coming out here. Plenty of them were carrying pieces of wood, metal tools, baseball bats, and on and on the list of random things.

They started cheering, excited about something he couldn't figure.

“People listened to him,” Colleen uttered in awe. “Danny, they heard Ward's call to fight.”

He twisted around to see what she saw. Men and women in police uniforms were arriving by the carload. Some of the people with them wore military uniforms. A lot of them were older, some of them weren't. Possible retirees and veterans, or the lucky who were off-duty when the explosives detonated.

The people on the other end were ordinary citizens, wielding whatever weapons they could scrounge up. There were so many of them he couldn't count the number. He was beyond bewildered. How'd they know when to come here? Their timing was basically perfect.

“They've got radios,” Matt relayed to them, head cocked to the side as he listened carefully. “People have been communicating with law enforcement and trained professionals that way. They've been meeting in churches to make the plan to join together here. It's where they presume the domestic terrorists are housed from the message over the police radio.”

“Defenders!” Both groups were carrying megaphones, as both had a member leading the way, calling out using the instrument.

“This city shouldn't be yours alone to defend!” A man in a police uniform projected to them.

On the opposite side, the citizen holding a megaphone spoke into it. “We showed up at noon hoping to see these terrorists and nothing. Guess it's a good thing we decided to stick around a while!”

“We've got your back, Cage!” a citizen shouted loud enough to reach their ears.

“We're with you!” someone else screamed from amongst the crowd of people.

The cartel members were looking awfully conflicted being so overexposed, and the newest arrivals were beginning to take in the dangerous situation. As soon as the group with training saw the rifle carrying soldiers outside the skyscraper, the order went out to draw firearms. The soldiers switched their targets to the people aiming guns at them.

A handful of men in bulletproof vests and blue windbreakers spilled out of two vans parked along the side of the building. They had guns and took cover behind barriers near the Cerberus soldiers.

“FBI! Stand down! Put your goddamn guns down now!”

Jessica laughed. “Shit's crazy.”

He didn't know which side fired first, but the minute a gun discharged, the area exploded into chaotic violence.

Some of Kuo's loyalists were being assaulted by the citizens near them and they were responding with unflinching brutality. A gunfight between Cerberus and the armed military, police, and FBI raged on their left. The cartel stood by, not yet attacking anybody, and he caught Matt focusing on the other scattered Heart members, rushing into a fight with a pair of them.

“I'm helping those people!” called out Colleen, and she ran to close the distance to the brave citizens.

Jessica ran after her and Luke turned his sights on the soldiers firing assault rifles. He used his bulletproof nature to his advantage and charged, intending to engage them head on. Danny scanned where he would jump into the fight and someone shouted his name above the deafening levels of the chaos, breaking away from the end of the street most congested by citizens and Heart soldiers.

He saw Misty emerge from the crowd. She slowed to a stop to take out a guy who got in her way, trying to cut her with a knife. Her assailant went down when her bionic arm bashed into his skull.

Starting her jog back up, she reached Danny, breathing heavily.

“Where's Kuo?”

“I don't know,” he answered, distracted by the cartel's leader pointing at the building they'd come out of to his lieutenant.

It was far too noisy to hear any part of their discussion. He started edging closer to their spot, hoping to somehow hear what was being said. Sounded like he might have heard the word “profit”, but then he halted in his tracks. The gang members were leaving. In threes and fours, they began slipping into a narrow alleyway to the right.

The leader, Manden, realized he was being watched and looked across the distance at him. He gave him a wave, the side of his mouth upturning in a small smile. His back to him now, he left the area with his lieutenant.

Misty was seeing what he was seeing, and suggested, “They can't see the benefit in their arrangement any longer is my guess. Cartels tend to operate like that. They do what makes them worthwhile money or they're all done tolerating. It's the kind of criminals they are.”

He wasn't going to complain. They were taking the extra guns to consider with them. Their own Heart members determined it was the time to reveal their presence. Dressed as ninjas or covering their faces partially, they'd looked just like any other of their people. Kuo's faithful hadn't even seen it coming and were now under attack by someone a moment ago they believed to be an ally.

Danny could go searching for Kuo now. Although he'd have to deal with Oberman first.

Grabbing Misty's attention, he told her to follow him and ran for the front doors of the skyscraper. The rifle bearing soldiers had been shot or moved off somewhat to the side of the entrance. They were receiving constant fire from one side and were fully focused on the shooters. The distraction served well and he slipped into the lobby of the office building with her.

Dr. Oberman hefted himself up onto the front desk, standing on it. He spun the staff in his hands before extending his arms outward in mock welcome. His left arm tilted so he could examine his watch.

“You have approximately three minutes until the countermeasure wears off and I subdue your power.”

He gave a disdainful look. “I could beat you with or without my power.”

“A living weapon, mhm… Perhaps. But it would be foolhardy to weaken yourself before confronting your true enemy.”

“He's weaker now because he underestimated his opponent. Will you do the same?”

“Hm… I like that,” he said, sounding humored. “Give me your best.”

Oberman dove straight off the desk like diving into water. When Danny moved out of his path, he twirled his body and the staff in hand skillfully. He avoided a hit but Misty had to use her bionic arm to block a swing.

Together they took him on, and he faced an inconvenient reminder the staff was unaffected by his power. His opponent was considerably good at lashing out and protecting himself with the weapon. He learned quick the new armor and mask were also of the kind of material his power didn't overcome. A minute ticked by and another, and they weren't getting anywhere.

They had to get the armor out of the way. If they could do that, he would be able to land an effective strike using the Iron Fist. He relayed his plan to his partner and they set it into motion.

Familiar with assault vests, the detective hung back while he raced ahead to continue fighting hand to hand. Once she figured out what she had to, she sprang forward and made a grab for his belt. She missed.

He ducked a swing of the long staff and latched onto it with his hands. Pushing him backward, the momentum drove Oberman into a wall. He kicked out and Danny pushed through the pain to shove him back to the wall.

Misty used the opportunity to get in close. She slid his own knife from his belt, more the length of a short sword, and cut through a shoulder strap. The move didn't go unnoticed and he grabbed the arm, the woman probably only saved a broken wrist because it was her artificial one.

His grip was lost when his enemy suddenly released hold of the staff, throwing him off kilter. Oberman punched him below the chin and kneed into his stomach, tugging his weapon back from Danny afterward. He swept the weapon outward, regaining space as they moved out of its radius.

The end of the staff changed into a sharp tip with the press of a switch, transforming it into a spear. There was a red stain on the end, the man's infected blood. And if his timing was accurate, the three minutes were just about up.

Danny concentrated power into his fist. His partner was on his other side now, rushing forward. She ducked under his arm as he pulled back the glowing fist to gain momentum. The strike was delivered successfully to his chest when Misty risked being up very close, pulling the loosened armor to expose his center mass.

The direct hit propelled him across the room and smashing into the wall, crumpling to the floor behind the desk. Misty drew her firearm and cautiously moved around the corner of the desk. He stayed to the right so they would be coming at him on two sides.

Their opponent was on one knee, a hand clutching his chest. His breathing ragged and uneven, Danny saw he continued to grasp his staff in his hand a moment too late. The weapon cut through the air and pierced Misty in the ribcage.

Oberman fell onto his side, curling up a little, and stopped moving. Turning away from him, he ran to his fallen friend. She was pulling the sharp point out of her side before he could tell her it might not be a good idea to.

“Why do I always get the guys with the anachronistic crap?” she breathed, breath hitching in pain.

Her hands pressed to her bleeding wound and she scooted to sit against the counter.

“I'm going to get the guy who cut off your arm if it helps.”

She made a weak smile. “It does.”

The door opened and he found himself looking into the faces of Colleen and the Heart defector, Owen. When she saw Misty's state, the woman hurried to kneel by her to see if she was okay. Standing up again, she informed them that Claire was on the way and had medical supplies. Then she asked where Bakuto was.

On the final insistence by Misty that she was okay and would soon have a fantastic nurse, the three of them proceeded to the elevator. They assumed the top floor because it was usually the top floor. If it wasn't, they'd have to painstakingly go floor by floor hunting the bastard.

The doors opened to Kuo standing a few yards from them, patiently awaiting the arrival.

His eyes lingered on Owen, but settled on Colleen.

“Have you come to cut off my head again?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

She met his gaze. “You going to make it that way?”

As an answer, he brought forth his sword and held it steady before him. “You could have protected this city, Danny. Saved it from the crime and mayhem it has had to endure for five days now.”

They walked out of the elevator, Danny and Colleen coming closer while Owen hung back. She unsheathed her sword, prepared to fight her former beloved sensei yet again. He knew she must be tired of it and wished it didn't have to be done.

“Prioritizing the sick people of this city cost you, as prioritizing me will cost you.”

He frowned, not understanding his meaning at all. And it didn't matter, because he went on to speak of something else.

“People who think themselves heroes are the ones who open the way for people like him.”

Him who?

“I mistimed, missed my opportunity to sustain this effort. I should have known he would sit in antipathy, waiting for others to do his work this long. When he does finally come, nothing will be the same.”

The sudden sight of the gun and subsequent burning pain in his leg was shocking. He lowered his vision to the bullet wound in his thigh, such an attack completely unexpected. Kuo was treacherous. Why was he surprised after everything?

Colleen was looking at him, wide-eyed and afraid. “Are you okay?”

He didn't reply. Kuo was talking again, seemingly taking Colleen's question for his own to answer. His arms were trembling, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“I feel exhausted in my bones. The serum makes me have to force myself to do the simplest task, like standing upright,” he revealed. “My beliefs remain the same. I'll keep them always.”

Kuo attacked his former student. She was expecting it and parried his strikes, straining to hold him at bay. Despite his waning strength, he was bringing enough muscle into his blows that her smaller frame had to use significant effort in response.

He joined into the fight at the next available opportunity, throwing relentless fists. Against the two of them he was clearly struggling, and Danny figured it was just a matter of knocking him unconscious. Colleen wanted him locked up once. He assumed she still wanted that. They weren't taking this as far as killing, were they?

Probably something they should have discussed beforehand.

“What do you have without us, Colleen?” Kuo asked, taunting. “You have no family.”

He brought the gun out, firing a near miss at her. Danny immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her back, the both of them warily watching the weapon. A gun in a close quarters fight was a little uneven.

“You were a great teacher, Bakuto,” said Colleen. “I'm this strong and confident of myself because of you.”

Was she trying to convince him to stand down and surrender? He worried on that. Should the man give up and allow himself to be arrested, wouldn't someone like him have people who could get him out at a moment's notice? It might not be over if they ended this without killing.

Owen seemed cautious of her rising emotion. “He expects blind loyalty. When we eventually learn to see from perceptions other than our own, we become untrustworthy in his eyes.”

“You were one of my best, Owen. We had a bond not easily broken.” Kuo said. “And you betray me for a businessman.”

His gaze was drawn to the elevator, noticing the numbers were lighting up in ascending order. Someone or multiple someones were heading up to the top. He prayed they were friendly and not a bunch of gray soldiers.

“It would be easy to follow and think nothing else,” Owen admitted. “When you're in a room, it's just a room and fine that way. But expand what's outside that room and you see it's not black and white like the Hand claimed it was, like Heart does now. There's a whole world outside the room. Failure to see beyond your own mind. This is where you failed us.”

“I gave you everything. I've known you most of your life,” he said. “Why would you hurt me, Owen?”

“Because we were supposed to benefit humanity. We were supposed to _be_ the greater good, not make excuses for evil acts and call it in service of a greater good. And because you didn't have to listen to the screams at night.”

The man's eyes darkened, something unreadable to him flickering in them. Tired as he seemed, his brain seemed to be working on overdrive. Danny followed his sweeping gaze to a certain point, stopping when he saw the explosives. They were wired to the ceiling, throughout the hallway with the elevators, and potentially there were a whole lot more unseen.

Kuo fired the gun at Colleen when he noticed her trying to get an angle on him out of his line of sight. She stilled where she was, sword lowering slightly. Unable to attack physically, she used her words instead.

“For all your talk, you don't have real faith in anything, Bakuto. Except maybe your own perceived superiority.”

Danny tried to communicate with her their situation, but she was distracted on speaking her mind.

“Your lack of faith has doomed you to repeatedly lose, when facing an opponent who believes in something real.”

He caught her eye and nodded to their multiple issues surrounding them. Her eyes widened and scanned the room again before scanning Kuo's person. She was searching for what would set them off.

Still determined to prove a point, prove she'd learned not to need him or family or anyone to live, she stared until he was looking her in the eye.

“In the end, you couldn't even beat a businessman.”

His gaze zeroed in on the man's jacket. It hadn't been closed during the battle between him and Ward. He had it zipped to the collar now and Danny considered it was to conceal something.

“You underestimate people,” he told the Heart leader, hoping to be a distraction for Colleen. “You don't really know anyone. That's your weakness.”

The elevator doors slid open. In the ensuing moment of a more effective distraction, Colleen lunged for Kuo's gun. He pulled the trigger multiple times at everybody present, and Danny charged.

Pain in his side stopped him and he fell to the ground, a bullet having blasted through his stomach. Kind of an obvious result when charging a guy with a gun. From where he was on his side, he saw Colleen managed to avoid being shot and had actually stabbed the man in the stomach.

He was skewered on her blade and yanked himself off of it as a voice filled the sudden quiet.

“Holy shit…” Ward said, stepping into the empty area beside the elevators. “Get his gun!”

Lowering her sword by her side, Colleen turned back to Kuo pointing the gun at her face. He pulled the trigger and the slide drew back, empty. Danny breathed out his relief but it didn't last. Kuo was laughing quietly to himself.

Marcus and Claire came into view on either side of Ward. The nurse carried a bag readily in hand and bandages wrapped tight across his chest and around his shoulder could be seen a little from beneath the bloody shirt. He was going to need her help too, if he didn't have enough in him to heal himself.

Matt came into view walking past them, Owen hesitantly following his lead to confront Kuo. He was ignoring his bleeding wound and continued to clutch the empty gun, his sword held fast in the other grip.

“What's so funny?” he asked, fixing those eerie Daredevil eyes onto the man.

The gun slipped out of his hand. He patted his chest, pressing down to make the outline of something square visible. His eyes searched the room at the gathered.

Matt's expression was flattening into abject horror. Kuo smiled slightly and revealed how it worked.

“Ten second delay to ensure absence of heart rate, and boom.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny demanded, dragging himself up onto his knees.

“Two, three, five, seven,” he counted, contented. “At least I get most of you.”

Marcus put his hand on Ward's shoulder, taking hold of Claire's arm as well.

“Dead man's switch,” he realized out loud, putting the two civilians behind him and pushing them in the direction of the elevator. “If his heart stops, this floor will blow.”

Well, they wouldn't kill him then. Problem solved. Why did it not feel solved?

Kuo's eyes stared hard into Ward's uncertainty.

“Ward,” he uttered. “I regret our efforts…”

He broke off, drawing his gaze to the large window behind him. “To come to nothing.”

Kuo jumped up and grabbed Danny by the sweatshirt, flinging him into the clear glass. Surprised and confused, he powered his fist as his enemy tried to bring the sword down on him. A bullet hole appeared in the center of his forehead, blood spraying out the back of his skull.

Stunned, he spun about regardless of the pain his stomach wound caused with motion. Once looking at the window, he instantly centered on what Kuo observed long before this. During his one-sided shootout, somebody had taken a shot at him from the outside. While it didn't hit him, he took notice of the attempt.

There were two separate bullet holes in the glass.

“Lobby, lobby, lobby,” Ward murmured to himself.

Danny looked up at him approaching, Marcus and Claire oddly holding onto his arms. Ten second delay he said? There was no way they'd be able to make it off the floor before the explosives triggered. Less than ten seconds to live.

He blinked upward at the man sadly, intending to express a final sentiment or apology.

Pain erupted in his stomach when Matt yanked him roughly off the floor, shouting at Colleen and Owen to touch Ward. What?

Colleen latched a hand onto his ankle and he was thrown into Ward bodily, eyes shutting from the pain it caused to jar his wound. His stomach twisted like his insides wanted to be everywhere and nowhere, and a pounding headache made his head feel like it was splitting apart. He was thrown again, he thought, Ward falling with him.

There was a roaring noise buzzing in his ears and then it was suddenly much quieter. His eyes opened and he fell off of Ward's front, plopping to his rear. He placed his hand over the hole in his stomach, puzzled as to why they were in the lobby amid the hazy vision caused by his pain.

Ward looked ready to pass out, legs giving out. He was grateful Marcus and Claire had a tight enough hold that they were able to lower him carefully to sit on the floor. The latter stepped sideways and wobbled.

“Sweet Christmas that was an unsettling experience.”

He turned to Claire stooped over, hands on her knees. Beyond her shoulder was Misty Knight, sitting in a chair by the front desk. She was gawking open mouthed at the abrupt appearance of seven people in a previously empty room.

No, not empty. Luke and Jessica were standing just inside the doors. Gesturing upward, Jessica examined their recuperating selves, not a one of them at a hundred percent.

“What happened up there? Sounded like a giant shit dynamite or something.”

Colleen chuckled. “Or something.”

Catching her breath, she looked at him. “Bakuto better not have any more twin brothers.”

The Cerberus leader came into view from behind the desk. Danny had forgotten they left him back there.

“I was born with this ability,” said Dr. Oberman. “Special abilities run in the family. It's our own secret inheritance.”

He waved an empty needled syringe in plain view and tapped his neck with two fingers, signifying he'd recently injected himself with whatever counteragent he used to avoid affecting others by his very nature. The mask hung on his belt, and he'd tied the vest's shoulder strap back into place, where it held well enough for now.

“My mother had the ability to heal. I had yet to learn what power was gifted to me. When I was twenty years old, my mother became sick. A common cold. It was strange, because she never got sick and grew sicker by the day. I stayed at her bedside, took care of her, prayed for her. I'm sure you can guess what was the end result of my love.”

“She died,” Luke said.

The doctor smiled, an insincere thing, looking at his empty eyes.

“She died. I killed her. Whatever choice you make, there is consequence. The Black Order would undo everything the world's Avengers fight to preserve, everything you stand for. I do not know if they will ever come to Earth, but he seeks to balance worlds.”

“Who is 'he'?” asked Danny, wondering if he would get an answer this time.

“We will go. Wachhund has no duty here anymore. You've all proven the world doesn't require reordering to save it. Let's hope when it does, it isn't in my lifetime.”

He didn't answer his question. It was like everyone he met went out of their way to confuse.

Oh great, and he was leaving.

Danny pursued, walking after him. Outside the battle had ended, people were scattered throughout the area. He peered toward the rooftops, searching for where the shooter might be hiding. Matt stepped up beside him.

“Frank is supposed to be on bed rest. Stubborn jackass.”

Surprise coated his features. “Frank's the shooter?”

“Damn that's a tough son of a bitch,” Jessica remarked, walking up with Luke at her heels.

Smoke filled the street surrounding them. Coughing and sputtering, he tried to see through the artificial fog. There was movement but he couldn't distinguish who or what was going on.

When it began to clear, Oberman was nowhere to be seen. Searching the length of the street, he realized there were no gray uniformed soldiers, fallen or otherwise. An impressive vanishing act.

The longer he spent thinking on everything that was happening, what happened moments earlier, and where they were presently, the more his curiosity increased. How did Kuo's followers learn of his death? They wouldn't abandon him unless they knew he was permanently gone. These people were trained to recover his body to prevent it falling into the hands of the enemy.

“We got weird lives,” said Luke, shaking his head as he was surveying the aftermath of the battle for the city waged on a random street.

Matt tensed. “Watch your backs.”

They turned around in response, facing the building opposite Obaktu Enterprises. Mikka Marks was pushing through the door, a row of Heart members close behind. He gritted his teeth, shifting into a fighting stance.

So they weren't quitting just yet.

“It's over,” Danny snapped. “Kuo is dead, permanently.”

Her expression turned ugly, loathing and furious. “Die in the dark!”

Open in the street like this, they might as well have been in a firing line for execution. Their enemies raised guns and opened fire with her screamed anger as the signal. Too many bullets to dodge.

He crumpled, bloodied and rapidly numbing from the massive pain and shock. Matt was already on the ground, face planted into the concrete. The man wasn't moving.

His energy faded and he slid flat on his back. It was difficult to do anything. His hand came away from one of the holes in him and he frowned, staring at the fluid practically glowing.

Danny laid his cheek to the ground and he was eye level with a few stray bullets. They were leaking the shiny fluid. He'd saw a similar but darker color in the laboratory, when Sandi and the other scientists worked on creating a cure from the stuff that was making people sick. He saw it when Kuo wanted to inject them with the serum to take their power away.

“No!”

He let his eyes close.

/

Colleen ran into the street, completely uncaring of the danger. He continued sitting where he was, incapable of processing the massacre he witnessed. It just wasn't possible. They didn't go down like that.

Claire was screaming and crying, curling into herself. She rocked slowly, wrapping her hands around her arms, utterly broken. Ward barely saw her, gaze frozen on the four motionless bodies.

How? What did they use? How?

Owen and Marcus brushed past him, running to engage the murderers. They started shooting at them and some of them started shooting back. Mikka gave them a single glance before turning on her heel and fleeing, disappearing down a side alley.

He was climbing to his feet, mind feeling disconnected from his body. Ward couldn't feel the exhaustion caused by transporting six people. The throbbing shoulder wound, perpetually on the edge of his consciousness even with the pain killers, faded. He was losing it.

This couldn't. He couldn't accept... It couldn't. It wasn't.

_Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop._

Ward stared around him in shock. There was an absence of sound. Nothing was moving. Everything was still. He turned, studying the woman on his left, arm frozen where she was raising it to wipe her tear streaked face. On his right over by the desk, Misty's stunned form was stuck in place too.

What..the..hell?

He opened the door and walked outside. Silence. The air itself trapped in place.

No, time was. Everything was stopped. He did this? He could..change time somehow?

Ward stared at his hands. First he found his body metabolized the effects of his proximity to the suppressant really fast. He figured it out when a large bruise acquired in early morning training mandated by Owen was notably growing smaller. Then he discovered by necessity that he could travel to another location with six other people. The task made him feel like he'd been run over by a semi.

He put his all into concentrating on visualizing the time before the shooting started. His heart rate picked up, sweat saturating his forehead, expanding to the rest of him. His body started shaking and he felt awful, faint, weaker.

Everything was reversing in front of his eyes. He tracked Marcus and Owen walking backwards past him, returning to where they'd been standing inside the lobby. Colleen soon after did the same.

His intention was to go as far back as everybody safe and sound inside but he couldn't keep doing this. He was drenched in sweat now, the extreme exertion making his vision spotty. Ward staggered, struggling to maintain his balance and focus.

On the verge of collapse, hunched with his hand to his chest, he let his control go.

“It's over,” Danny was saying angrily. “Kuo is dead, permanently.”

Mikka's expression was pure hurtful rage. He forced himself to remember there was one final thing he had to do.

“Hit the ground!” he screamed, his back falling against the wall next to the doors. “Danny! The fist!”

“Die in the dark!”

Danny automatically listened to his urgent request, drawing his body back and surging the glowing fist into the ground below.

The entire street and sidewalk before him broke to pieces, heaving everything into partial levitation surrounding him. Seconds later, it all came crashing back down.

Ward fought to stay upright, to be sure they were okay. He wavered, ground threatening to tilt up to meet him. The other three covered the distance between their ambushers and a battle was underway.

Owen and Marcus passed by, firing guns at Mikka and the others. Marcus shot the woman in the chest and she dropped. The three Defenders defeated the remaining enemies and Danny was rising to his feet.

He wasn't riddled with bullets. He was okay. The overwhelming desire to cease any effort won out.

Someone was speaking in his ear.

“Are you okay? What's wrong?”

Claire?

His eyes shut and he was aware of falling but never felt the impact.


	36. Chapter 35: Iron Fist

_**“This city is no place for the Iron Fist.”** _   
_**-Madame Gao** _

He woke up feeling exhausted. That was unwelcome. And his shoulder hurt.

Ward tugged his shirt down by the shoulders and reached to probe the wound with his fingers. While before he'd been wrapped in thick layers to stem the flow of blood, now it was a mere white patch taped to his chest. Wait, he was wearing a hospital gown.

His murky mind clearing, he searched the darkened room.

There were two other beds in the room. The one next to his was occupied by a sleeping figure he couldn't quite make out. By the expensive layout and furnishings, he identified it was the hospital owned by Rand.

Someone was asleep in a chair beside him. It was Claire. What was she doing here? What was he?

Okay, that last one was fairly easy to work out.

Tired as he was, he struggled to sit up, glancing at the IV in his arm. Were they not giving him pain medication? Was there a way to increase it? He could deal with feeling like crap he supposed.

The sleeping woman stirred, a hand rising to rub her eyes. Blinking them open, she looked at him and straightened herself in the chair.

“You're awake.”

“You're observant.”

She smiled, still rather drowsy. “Good. No brain damage. Had us worried for a while.”

“Why?”

“You tell me. Why'd you pass out like that? Why were you so scared right before you did?”

He remembered the moments before waking here. He recalled warning Danny and was thankful the massacre was prevented. She wouldn't be calm like she was, if any of them died.

Ward avoided answering. “This hospital gets a lot of mileage. Maybe we should start a club.”

“Glad you think it's so funny,” Claire said, stoic. “Doctors wanted to do a ton of scans and possible exploratory surgery to try and fix you. I fended them off knowing, no, _hoping_ you would wake up on your own.”

“It was serious?”

Her eyebrows raised as she confirmed. “You were half-dead. Your heart rate was dangerously low and irregular. There was no response to stimuli… You've been unconscious for almost three days.”

He studied the woman. She looked tired and stressed. Claire was obviously worried too, and he realized she had to make hard decisions for him over those days. She decided to forego standard treatment and examination for the chance his body would take care of itself. What if it hadn't? What if he died? This was a responsibility she'd taken onto herself and he held a new respect for her.

She reached forward and switched on the light bar behind his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

Unsurprised, she leaned back in the chair, stretching her arms. “You got an appetite? You hungry?”

“Nah.” He laid down on the bed and she stood, adjusting it so he was reclining instead of lying flat.

Peering over to the bed nearby, there was enough light now that he could see who occupied it.

“How's he doing?”

“Frank Castle is gonna be just fine, cause he says so. That's how he acts anyway. Idiot had no business dragging his ass to a rooftop so he could play sniper.”

“He was hunting Kuo?”

She nodded. “He was hunting Kuo. His buddy helped him get there. The nerve. Bed rest means nothing to the stubborn.”

Ward assumed she was talking about David Lieberman, Micro. It was certainly idiotic to be moving around with a yet pretty recent stomach wound, but he understood the necessity to not sit by and watch things happen. He was incredibly happy his feeling similarly brought him to that office building and to the others, or else…

“Where's Danny? What happened while I was out?”

Making herself comfortable, she folded her arms across her lap.

“Where do I start?”

/

_The soldiers in gray broke away from their posts, abandoning barricades and heavier weaponry. They'd received the call to erase their presence from the city. The National Guard didn't hesitate to storm through when they witnessed their abrupt departure._

_While the gray uniformed soldiers disappeared as effectively as they appeared within the city's borders, the National Guard proceeded deeper inside to an unexpected sight. They were met by several hundred citizens and learned they banded together to get their city back. The military heard their story of Kuo Abt and a fake business called Obaktu Enterprises. After that, they scoured New York for any sign of terrorism remaining._

_For days, helicopters flew overhead. Word spread, drawing out news crews and journalists for the story. FBI agents and Homeland Security showed up during the night, investigating how domestic terrorism like this could have happened. When the power was restored, it was uncovered a computer virus was utilized to take everything offline._

“Once the power came back, most of the craziness died down.”

_“This shit is ours! We staked claim.”_

_Another Italian mobster sneered. “No return policy.”_

_Luke rolled his eyes, exchanging looks with Danny before the two of them turned back to the unnecessarily problematic mafia. They'd taken territory that belonged to law-abiding citizens, and weren't looking to give it back. During the blackout, they strong-armed shop and restaurant owners into signing over property._

_“Like I was saying,” Danny folded his arms across his chest. “Just about everyone else is getting the message. Heart used the criminals of this city to further their own goals. Once this city died, you would have been thrown out like the trash those people think you are.”_

_They stood rigid, without a word._

_“Guys, rip up the contracts and go about your day,” said Danny._

_“Or I'm going to come back here and shove them up your asses,” Luke declared. “Then at least your shit's got something to say.”_

_Their expressions told them they weren't going to be an issue any longer._

“Owen and the other ex-Heart people... Well, they had a different tact with the reluctant.”

_Owen climbed off of the unconscious gangster._

_“Who's next?”_

_A woman shoved a cowering man toward Marcus. He dropped to his knees, pleading that they got it. They wouldn't be trouble preventing the city's return to status quo. He swore they would give the truckload of cure they'd stolen to hold for ransom back._

_“I know that's true,” Marcus said, “But we gave our word to deliver a message.”_

_“Marina, would you like the honor?” asked Owen._

_The woman leaning against the far wall near the exit smirked. “Happy to.”_

_“No! No! No!”_

“The reason I look so damn foxy right now? Been working practically nonstop to deliver the cure fast as your company's lab can churn it out.”

_Wiping sweat off her brow, she pushed away from the wall to meet the truck as it pulled in front of the side entrance. Claire motioned to the gathered volunteers, guiding them to get started unloading the latest shipment of the antidote._

_“Alright people, let's move. This hospital's over capacity, and we're still not gonna make a dent today.”_

_A young nurse named Kendra paused to speak with her._

_“Is half the city really sick with this poison or whatever it is?”_

_She breathed out her stress. “You better believe it. At least that many. Now come on. We've gotta get this done.”_

“Of course, compared to the construction crews, firefighters, and other volunteers that worked day and night until every police precinct was unburied, I got nothing on them.”

_Jessica shoved an enormous block of concrete away from the double doors of the police station. She ignored the stares of a few firefighters gawking at the little girl that could. Peering through the hole she'd made, she yelled through it, waiting to hear anything._

_One of the doors pulled inward, noises of people straining to get it done audible on the other side. After accomplishing the arduous action, a uniformed officer stuck his head through the gap. When he saw her, he let out a shout of joy._

_“They're getting us out, boys and girls. Best collect your belongings and say your goodbyes to the hospitality of our fine wooden floors. Because we-are-getting-out of here!”_

_Cheers and a couple praises to God. She was just a chick, but hey, they wanted to call her God, why argue?_

_Grinning, she set to work on the other large pieces of rubble in her way._

“Kuo left a mess behind, no doubt about that.”

_FBI agents flooded into the empty office building of Obaktu Enterprises, eager and prepared to get to the bottom of all responsible parties for what happened to New York. There wasn't a soul in the building, nor a single useful document to provide evidence. But on the highest floor, a massive explosion had destroyed the level._

_As they proceeded across the ruined floor, they came to a spot where brain and blood was splattered wall to wall. Pieces of somebody's corpse was all over the place. The lead FBI agent stooped over the charred torso, lifting up a katana sword in his gloved hand._

_He turned to his partner, who lowered her handgun and just stared, unsure what to make of it either._

_On the other side of the city, another team of FBI agents streamed into the precinct fingered as completely overrun by officers involved in the plot with the terrorists._

_They entered a deserted station. The cells where they were told the police officers had been locked up stood empty. Searching the building top to bottom, there wasn't a single file or memo to be found._

_Standing around in a hallway, perplexed and disbelieving, one of the agents noticed a door ajar. He pushed through it and walked into a small room, bare except for a radio. It was a useless thing, and the only thing these mysterious fugitives didn't make vanish._

“Thankfully, we have some extremely special people looking out for us.”

_Matt spin kicked a Heart soldier into a wall. The guy hit hard and slid to the floor, motionless. He was out of enemies and his allies were handling themselves without difficulty._

_There were people arguing up ahead._

_Entering the next hallway, he heard the sound of a gun being lifted, magazine pushed in with a click. Matt swung around and pressed flat to the wall, a stream of bullets unloading into the space he was seconds away from occupying. He listened for what else might be present._

_Misty hurried to lean against the wall beside him. Her sidearm was held low, heart racing._

_Ever happy to help when there was a bullet situation, Luke took notice of them. Cheerful, he jogged into the dangerous hall and ran straight for the shooter. Misty peeked across his chest to check the situation._

_She entered the hall, gun raised, shouting for them to surrender. The guy with the machine gun screamed while he was lifted up by the throat and slammed into the ground. Four more soldiers poured out of the room he identified as being guarded. There were six refusing to alter their position inside._

_Colleen and Danny reached the corner just after he turned it and walked carefully forward. An assailant came at him on the right. He took him down with a single kick and punch combination._

_Matt kept moving, registering that Jessica was confronting Heart soldiers pouring into the entrance from the outside. None of them were a match for the six of them together. He soon stood in the room they were looking for with his allies._

_“Sweet Christmas.”_

_Jessica agreed. “That is a shit ton of hero making juice.”_

_There were rows and rows of the translucent type liquid, extracted out of the Egg of the Undying. The room was pretty big and every shelf was full. They must have been duplicating the stuff nonstop._

_Danny was very serious walking among the shelving._

_“This is my responsibility to protect. We burn it all down.”_

_The Heart soldier who changed allegiances prior to the final battle for New York, made his presence known, emerging from the dark part of the room. He offered to lead them to the new storage building housing the elixir with very special properties. His thumb jerked toward the doorway behind him._

_“Gasoline is stored two spaces over with the vehicles.”_

_A nod from Danny before he was looking at his friends._

_“Let's do this.”_

/

“Getting rid of the stolen special egg stuff was the last on the list of things to do,” Claire said. “They'll be back tonight.”

“Hey.”

Ward startled upon suddenly hearing the gruff, low voice to his left.

“I want to say sorry for, you know, almost causing you all to blow up.”

His eyes grew bigger at the apology, looking in the direction of the man now sitting upright in the bed. Claire climbed to her feet, walking over to the sink and filling two cups with water. She came to stand between their two beds and handed Frank a cup before holding one out to him, then pulling it halfway back.

“Or do you only drink sparkling water out of glass bottles or something well-to-do like that?”

He restrained from rolling his eyes and faked a laugh to let her know he thought she was hilarious.

She smirked. “You know, for a couple of rich guys, you and Danny are two of the most disadvantaged guys I've ever met, and that's saying something.”

Ward accepted the water and drank it down quickly. She took it back and went to refill it. He felt Frank's eyes on him.

“You won't put any of the blame on yourself, right?”

“Why would you think I would?”

Frank gave him a look like he was saying, 'I know what's in your head, don't try to lie to me.'

“Some lives hold more value than others. It's not right, but it's the way it is.”

He wasn't sure how to respond. Claire blocked their view of each other for a moment to hand him the cup. She glanced between them briefly and then headed for the door.

“I'm bringing back food and I expect you to eat every bite.”

Ward sighed tiredly, resting his head. He planned to just close his eyes for a minute, but fatigue dragged him into effortless unconsciousness.

/

Ward raised the idea to invite everyone for a big dinner celebrating the city's recovery. It was also an opportunity to thank people for the hard work and fortitude they displayed during a most stressful time. Danny did the inviting, while Ward picked the restaurant. He nudged him into inviting the Heart/Hand defectors as well.

Most of them picked up and left once the city was out of immediate danger. A few intended to stay local, for the time being anyway, and were continuing to help with the damage caused. One in particular he really didn't approve staying in New York. He tried to reason to Ward that the man was untrustworthy, probably a sociopath, and was a loyal ally of Bakuto until recently.

He was told the man came through for them enough times to warrant a second chance, and he was reminded his girlfriend was a former ally of Bakuto too. Danny corrected she was his ex-girlfriend and the debate ended there.

So now he sat, watching Marcus “Patterson”, eating dinner and chatting all friendly with Nina Monroe, Karen, and Matt.

The Rand employee leaned to the side to whisper something into her husband's ear. He laughed, shaking his head and reaching for a wine bottle. Micro poked him in the side and told him to stop looking so grumpy. Hearing him since he was just on Danny's other side, Ward started examining his demeanor more closely. How annoying.

He shoveled food into his mouth to avoid talking. He just didn't want anything bad to happen. That was all. Who could fault him for worrying after everything?

The table chatting died down a little when the large television behind the bar switched to a news report about what happened to the city. In general people were interested to hear what would be said, and Foggy Nelson announced he was trying to hear in a loud voice.

_“The FBI and Homeland Security concur they believe the terrorists were disgruntled international traders, unhappy with the state of world economics. Authorities suspect these domestic terrorists targeted New York City to try and make a statement to the rest of the world.”_

Ward set his glass on the table, puzzled. “How haven't they made a connection to Rand yet? I expected the FBI to be knocking down our door and demanding documents. I assumed they'd get us on some kind of liability claims at the very least, and at worst...”

Frowning, Nina pulled her wine glass away from her lips. “True. It's been a week. Think they're gathering evidence to bring it to light in a bid to publicly embarrass the company?”

“A selective and cloaked computer virus wiped out any and all connections and transactions for businesses owned by Obaktu Enterprises, funded by Rand Enterprises.”

That was oddly specific. Every single person shifted to stare at Micro. Beside him, Frank was starting to grin at the manner his friend behaved. He looked across the table a the man's wife. She seemed proud to be that wife tonight.

“You'll find the emptied funds and missing money have been refilled again, almost like there never was an Obaktu Enterprises or numerous schemes to defraud your company.”

“You did that?” Ward asked, awed.

Micro met his gaze, serious.

“It's small compared to what you did.” He swept his gaze slowly across everyone sitting at the long table before adding, “I don't think a single person here isn't grateful for your choices. So on behalf of everybody, thank you.”

“I didn't-I wasn't... I was helping _me_.”

A few people chuckled at the implausibility of the statement, including Danny. Misty wasn't laughing, but she stared at him like he was crazy. He put an arm around the man.

“Face it. You kind of accidentally became a hero. Ever thought that would happen?”

Firm, Ward immediately uttered, “No.”

He didn't seem to like anyone showing him appreciation or recognition for what he endured these past months. Danny understood. Blocking things out or convincing whatever went on wasn't a big deal to move on. He'd attempted such a mindset in the past and it rarely worked for long.

The TV drew their attention again.

_“An official message released from Stark Industries seems to indicate Mr. Stark wasn't made aware of the terrorist attack, learning of it only upon his return home.”_

“Psh,” Colleen shrugged off the newscaster. “Now the big shots have something to say and wanna get involved. A little late for that, metal man.”

“Are we even surprised the government didn't bother telling the world's go-to defense force?” Luke commented rhetorically.

_“The White House announcement earlier today, declaring the belief that the threat of these domestic terrorists calling themselves “Heart”, has passed with the organization leader declared dead, has led to some controversy among-”_

A man behind the counter shut off the television. Danny eyed him, noting he was somebody he'd seen before. Somewhere important.

Oblivious, Claire drained her glass. “Everybody's always fighting each other. No wonder it's so easy for the bad guys to become that dangerous.”

“Too much television rots the brain, or so they say,” the man in the suit remarked with an elegant British accent. “Well, you've all made a mess of things.”

“Interpol guy? What? Is party crashing not beneath you?”

Luther James helped himself to a drink behind the counter, smiling pleasantly at an irritated Jessica. Frank turned wary, but he didn't seem concerned. That was kind of his barometer for whether he need be worried.

“It's a good thing you people are better at cleaning up messes than you are preventing them.”

“Hm. Let's rewind the clock,” Jessica said, peeved. “Weren't you helping the people who made the mess?”

His momentary lapse in arrogance informed more than what he told them with words.

“I need several drinks. Anyone for a nightcap?”

Nina's husband peered down at his watch. The late hour brought him to his feet. He ventured over to the table where his children and Micro's children were eating dessert.

“Come on guys. Time to go.”

Micro reluctantly got up from the table to do the same and gather their kids. He was surprised to see Jessica and Luke leave the table to take the Interpol agent up on his drink offer. Taking a minute while he was looking about anyway, he found Colleen's seat.

She appeared to be chatting well with the former Hand and Heart member, Marina. Ward got up to talk to Karen and Owen when the latter returned from the restroom, claiming his attention. He didn't know how to feel socializing with enemies, past enemies, whatever.

His eyes narrowed, noticing Marcus approaching them, balancing drinks in his hands. He walked over as fast as he could while keeping a casual pace. Danny pondered what served for small talk with people like them.

“Hey, how did you do that?” the man was asking while handing Ward a whiskey.

He realized they'd become the default spot to gather. Matt and Claire not far to his left, Jessica and Luke wandering closer with Colleen and Luther James. Everyone else vacating the table to stand around drinking like the rest of the room. It left him feeling somewhat sheepish basically coming over just to spy on Ward's conversation.

His friend received the drink, looking at him questioningly. “Do what?”

“Look so good.”

Ward's forehead scrunched, processing the statement. When comprehension of the meaning hit him, he bloomed red in blushing embarrassment. Danny began to feel anger and a need to say something, but then a small smile tugged the corners of his mouth up.

A hand ran through the styled back hair. He was charmed by the words. Ward met his interested gaze and the smile widened.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

Owen choked on his drink at the terrible line. He poorly hid his humored reaction behind the half-filled glass.

“When are those come-ons going to stop?”

“When you give me a chance,” he replied with a smirk.

Ward scoffed. “What are you in love with me or something?”

The other man became uncharacteristically nervous and defensive.

“Wha-Uh... I-Well, I don't know. Love's a strong word... Attraction maybe. I can admit that. Sure. Yeah.”

“You're babbling,” Karen pointed out, entertained. “And sound like a lovestruck teenager.”

He heard Luke holler for him, saying he wanted to ask him something. Danny saw he was with Matt, Jessica, and Frank. They'd paused whatever conversation they'd been having to look over.

Without breaking his gaze, he tried to wave them off and returned to monitoring the four conversing. Ward was looking at Marcus with a kind of heat he didn't like. He wondered if he was mistaken when the man lowered his head toward the floor, almost bashful.

'Shy' was not a term he would have applied to Ward Meachum.

He inched sideways and planted a kiss on his cheek, seeming uncertain about the decision. Danny gaped, confused and disbelieving. Marcus bore a surprised look and it appeared to be the reason Ward drew him into a hug, holding him close.

They pulled apart with Ward's expression betraying nothing, while the other was virtually beaming he was so delighted.

Irritated, Danny opened his mouth to claim he needed to talk to Ward alone, however, Marcus caught his eye. He could see it in his expression, delight dampening to caution, that he knew he was opposed to their getting along. His arm reached out to pull Ward gently into his side.

The worst part was that Ward let him to see what he wanted.

“I understand hesitation to get into any kind of serious relationship,” Marcus conceded, tone casual. “Therefore, if you ever wish to just have a good time, Owen and I have been..friends with benefits for many years. Spectacular sex, no strings.”

“He's a real stallion,” Owen said like it was a fact, and not perverse or inappropriate right now.

Thankfully Micro and Nina were no longer here with their families, because he carried on entirely straight-faced, although his voice suggested he was messing with somebody. Danny wasn't quite sure. He was beginning to think it was him they were working to set off.

“I'm a sucker for a big dick. And I mean that in every possible way.”

Their voices carried in the room and every single person was contemplating the multiple meanings in the silent moments that followed. It was written all over their faces. He glared at Owen, trying to send the message he should be quiet without having to verbalize the demand.

“Hey!” Marcus discerned one of the meanings. “I am not _that_ big of an asshole.”

Owen merely shrugged and sipped his drink.

Bristling at the lack of agreement, he muttered, “You weren't calling me an asshole when I was banging yours last night.”

Karen and Ward were mid-drink and simultaneously choked on the fluid. They spat liquor onto the floor, coughing and straining to recover. Beyond them, Claire and Colleen were openly laughing aloud. They were pretty much in tears.

“Aw, darling, must remember to breathe,” sympathized Marcus, patting his back lightly.

He had enough.

“You are _not_ sleeping with them!”

Sputtering, Ward forgot his initial humiliated reaction to yell back, “Don't tell me what to do!”

“I'll take care of them if either one hurts him,” Frank said before taking a casual sip.

The declaration stopped their argument dead in its tracks.

Everybody looked at him, mixtures of appreciation, amusement, and concern for his defensiveness of Ward. Going off their looks, Owen and Marcus had the decency to take him at his word.

As quickly as it arrived, the seriousness evaporated from the room when Colleen burst into laughter again. Beside her, Claire was leaking giggles, trembling and trying to hold them inside. Marina laughed softly and cut it out so she could ask them something, louder than she probably intended.

“When he said 'remember to breathe', I thought Owen was going to say-”

“That's what she said,” Colleen gasped.

Claire adjusted for the particular situation. “Or he.”

“Or he was going to say, 'and practice your gag reflex',” suggested Marina.

A beat before the two women howled with laughter, Marina joining in. They weren't talking about him and yet he felt like the butt of the joke. A euphemism for sex popped into his head simply by thinking, “butt of the joke”.

Annoyed, he grabbed Ward by the arm and yanked him toward the bar. He intended to blame the alcohol on how much fun the ladies were having while he was not having any. Maybe he could fix it for himself.

“Danny?”

“Care to be my drinking buddy tonight?”

“Uh, sure. Whatever you need.”

He was trying to read his present disposition off his body language. Danny shut it down and sat on a stool, Ward sitting on the one next to him.

Lifting his gaze, he found Agent James hadn't vacated his position behind the bar. Without saying a word, the man set to work on some drinks and placed them on the counter. Then he just had to say more than a few words.

“You know, it's true what they say about British being oversexed.”

Danny let his forehead bang down onto the countertop, exasperation tiring him out. Why didn't he ever see the obvious coming?

/

Colleen caught his arm on his way out of the apartment building. He shifted the box he was carrying to balance better and stopped to look at her. Across the street, Misty was getting out of her car.

“You're welcome anytime, Danny,” she told him, and began to smile warmly. “Shoes or not.”

He smiled at the inside joke. “Take care of yourself.”

She nodded, putting her hands on her hips. “I will.”

“Hey, Colleen,” said Misty in greeting, starting across the street.

“Hey, Misty,” she said back.

Danny walked to his car and tossed the box onto the front passenger seat. Sitting behind the wheel, he took a moment to study the dojo's exterior a final time. Turning the ignition, he pulled his car away from the curb and drove on.

/

He jerked his head level when the elevator dinged. The doors sliding open, Danny let the two other occupants step out before he did. The first person he saw was Nina, coming down the hallway toward the elevators and head offices.

She smiled cheerfully. “Good morning, Mr. Rand.”

“Good morning, Ms. Monroe.”

“What did I say?”

“Right. Sorry. Nina.”

Humming contentedly, she spun on her heels, striding to the door of Ward's office. She knocked on the door and when she opened it, he could see Ward standing from his desk. Megan was sitting on the other side with a notepad in hand.

The assistant rose out of her chair. “Congratulations on your promotion, Mrs. Monroe.”

“Thank you, Megan. But I'm really just filling in until Joy Meachum decides to return.”

“Yes, of course.”

The door closed and Danny headed for his own office.

/

Jessica exited the bar, wincing as the afternoon sunlight hit her eyes. She was surprised to find Malcolm hurrying down the block toward her. Frowning at him, she threw up her arms.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“I, uh, knew you'd be here. Thought we could head back to the office together. There are a couple cases you might want to look into.”

“You checking up on me?”

“Um.. Nah?”

“That's a yes, Malcolm.”

She rolled her eyes and started down the street the way he came. “You coming?”

He hurried to catch up and fell into step alongside her.

/

Matt reached across the table to steal a few fries. Karen slapped his hand.

“Hey!”

Mockingly serious, she claimed ownership. “These are mine.”

He leaned into the back of his chair, grinning as he surrendered. “Alright, alright.”

Foggy drained his beer and glanced about for a waitress or waiter. It was crowded, the restaurant boisterous and loud. Yet to successfully flag one down, he glanced at them.

“Want me to order another for you guys?”

“Sure.”

“Yep.”

/

Luke took a gulp of his beer, watching the movie with subdued interest. He couldn't remember the name of the movie, but it was decent. It didn't matter either way. What he cared about was sitting here with him.

She leaned into his side, nestling her face against his chest. He lowered his arm from the top of the couch to wrap around her shoulders, peering down affectionately. Claire lifted her chin and kissed him on the lips briefly before settling back into his arms to watch the TV.

He could do this every night.

/

“Don't do anything too psychotic,” David said into his cell. “Goodbye, Frank.”

He pocketed his phone and went into the dining room, joining his family at the dinner table. Sarah stood and kissed him on the cheek. Sitting down again, she beamed at their two kids.

“Okay. Who wants to talk about their day first?”

“Oh, me!” Leo exclaimed, suddenly excited. “Jenna did something really funny.”

David smiled, looking around to study the faces of each member of his family. He never failed to appreciate what he had anymore. This was the life.

/

Ward was still getting used to the new house. He was getting used to not being on his own too. He constantly worried it was just a fluke. Something would happen to push him right down to the bottom.

Every time he doubted his life, he reminded himself he'd promised to live for others. If he was doing that, the rest would hopefully just fall into place or be all right. He blinked at the screen.

What was he even watching?

He clicked through the channels, brain half switched off.

“We forgot toothpaste,” Owen announced, walking into the living room with a toothbrush in his mouth.

The remote control settled in his lap. He was apparently brushing his teeth with solely water.

“I can get it tomorrow,” he said. “Use the mouthwash.”

Marcus padded through the doorway barefoot, wearing a gray t-shirt and blue flannel bottoms. He paused to admire Owen clad only in black boxers, although his final gaze halted on the man's chin. A hand came up to stroke his own thin layer of facial growth.

Coming to plop down on the couch, he glanced at the television, touching his scruff again.

“I should shave this,” he mumbled

He took it upon himself to reply unprompted. “I don't know. Stubble works for Owen. I think it could look good.”

“Maybe a little, but you should see him when he lets himself go. Scary.”

Marcus's jaw tightened. He grabbed a pillow and threw it after the retreating man. Ward laughed a little and shook his head. These guys were bizarrely normal and domestic. A couple of regular idiots.

/

Danny knelt on the high rooftop, scanning the area below. An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. No trouble stirring so far.

He would keep careful watch as the city pulled itself back together, like it always did when something bad happened. His place was here and he would protect it. This was his duty, his calling, his purpose.

 

**_“You make the time if it's something you deem worth it. Cause sometimes in life, we just make it up as we go, and there's nothing wrong with that.”_ **   
**_-Nina Monroe_ **


End file.
